


Dissonance

by helloshepard



Series: Renewal [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The geth have reached a consensus. Xen is planning something, and Tali is trying to find her place in a brand new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Quiet_ was not the proper word to describe Rannoch.

There was always construction going on _somewhere,_ or a group of quarian youth braving the perimeter boundaries the Admiralty had set.

Or geth were arriving at the construction sites, an act that garnered protests or cheers, depending on the time of day or managers in charge. The arid, barren land of their newest settlement did nothing to muffle sound, and many quarian had already begun to compare this place to the flotilla.

 The knocks, however, startled Tali out of her restless sleep. Instinctively, she reached for her weapon of choice: a shotgun outfitted with her own extensive modifications, redesigned to compensate for her size relative to its weight and power. It rested in its usual place beside her bed, and was quickly resting in her hands.

Another: three knocks exactly, perfectly spaced apart.

Tali crouched. The shotgun was a familiar weight in her hands, but it would not do much if she had to shoot _through_ the door. Why hadn’t anyone thought to install a peephole?

Internally berating herself for the design flaw, she cradled the shotgun in her arm, leaving a careful finger on the trigger, and stood.

“Who is it?”

Tali expected silence, or an accented quarian voice wanting help getting a generator online.

“Creator Tali’Zorah.”

_Geth._

Tali shuddered.

Despite the quarian’s armistice with the geth—despite all Legion had done to help Shepard—the thought of intelligent, free, geth made Tali uneasy.

“What do you want?”

“It requires further clarification, Creator Tali’Zorah. There is a matter of some urgency.”

Tali rolled her eyes, but opened the door.

There were _two_ geth waiting in the dim artificial light.

“Tali’Zorah vas Normandy.” The first one, its armor a burned red, had to squat in order to see her face. “Your vital signs are optimal.”

Annoyed, Tali nodded. Could it register _irritation?_

“What do you two want?”

The smaller of the two stepped forward.

“Consensus has been reached. Quarian-geth relations are unstable. We have calculated that without intervention, minor violent incidents will escalate to riots. Riots will escalate to skirmishes. We wish to avoid this.”

“That is something you should be discussing with the Admiralty Board. In the _morning_ ,” Tali added, as the geth stepped back. “I’m afraid I don’t have much pull with anyone these days.”

“We have discussed this matter with the Creator Admirals. It has been left to us to remedy the situation.”

The larger geth had moved back, into the shadows. Though the shotgun’s weight comforted her, she knew all too well it would be useless in a fight against two geth.

The smaller geth tilted its head.

“Consensus has been reached. Creator Tali’Zorah. We will explain the situation in greater detail.”

Tali sighed, closing the door behind her. It was clear the geth weren’t about to leave until she helped with whatever problem was so urgent it needed handling in the middle of the night…

“I have a garage.” She said. “The door is right—”

The garage light was already on.

Irritated, Tali pushed past the two geth and opened the door.

Four other geth were in the garage, hovering over one of several tables Tali had appropriated. In her peripheral vision, Tali saw another geth in the corner, by the flotilla ship upgrades, and another in the opposite corner.

Tali pushed past those geth too. They made space for her.

_“Keelah.”_

Apparently another consensus had been reached, because all the geth, save the smallest, formed a single straight line, and walked out of the garage.

“We reason quarians easily rally behind recognizable figures. You are one figure. However, geth are difficult to distinguish. Legion is the exception.”

Tali glanced at the body on the garage table, then away again, as if staring too long would accidentally bring the platform back online.

“Legion is dead. It told Shepard and I full personality dissemination was necessary.”

“Legion was correct.” Mimicking a nod, the geth took a step towards the table. “You know why it is impossible to hack a geth.”

“Archived data.” Tali said automatically. “Within a few minutes, a geth would bring back a former program, erasing the corrupted one.”

“Correct.” The smaller geth gleamed white-silver in the dim light. “We believe that we have archived sufficient data. As it relates to your ‘software’, the consensus has less immediate need of Legion’s original personality at present. But we do require a leader.”

Though she was certain the geth could not see her beneath her mask, Tali squinted. At times, she was loathe to admit parts of the geth’s unique ‘consensus’ mindset and individuality (or lack thereof) eluded her.

“I still don’t understand why you need me.”

“Records indicate two significant facts. One. You are the quarian’s foremost expert on geth. Two. Records indicate you were the last being Legion communicated with before its personality was disseminated. Are these facts in error?”

“No.” Tali set the shotgun down, against the table, and crossed her arms. “But what am I _supposed to do?”_

“We request you perform the final repairs and remain present for Legion’s activation.” The geth looked at its appendage. “Such repairs require dexterity geth do not possess.”

Tali glanced at Legion’s body.

She sighed.

“I’ll do it.”

Though the silver-white geth did not present any obvious signs of emotion, its optic narrowed, widened, then fixated on her, whirring quietly.

“You have our thanks, Creator Tali’Zorah.”

Tali’s shoulders stiffened.

“I am doing this for my people.”

“As are we.” The geth inclined its head. “We will leave.”

Tali watched the geth leave. Eventually, it vanished out of the light, and into the shadows.

Out of habit, she grabbed her shotgun and walked quickly to the door, shutting it and checking the locks. She _thought_ they were properly built, but that was probably what she got for allowing someone else to install such a vital part of security. Tali sighed. Another thing to fix.

Sleep called to her, but after the last half hour, it would be nearly impossible.

It had taken Tali nearly a week to get used to the idea of sleeping while a geth was onboard the _Normandy,_ and that was when the crew—her friends—were with her. Even when Legion had grabbed her hand, Shepard and Garrus were there to pull her in, and Shepard had been there too, when Legion died.

Now they were scattered across the entire galaxy, and she was here. Alone.

Tali moved towards Legion. The platform had clearly suffered some damage, though Tali suspected the geth had been trying to keep their ‘leader’ as clean as possible.

With practiced fingers, she activated her omni-tool and pulled up a chair.


	2. Chapter 2

For all the harm the geth had done to her people, they knew how to engineer. Tali recalled telling Shepard her secret wish to take a geth back to the flotilla: one uncompromised by Saren and _Sovereign’s_ indoctrination.

And now here was Legion, just a few years too late.

Her omni-tool chimed. The scan was complete.

The geth had completed all but three processes required for a basic startup.

Tali yawned and pushed back her chair. The initial shock was slowly wearing off, hastened by the comforting beeps of her omni-tool and the whir of the generators just outside. If she closed her eyes, Tali knew, she could almost imagine she was on the flotilla, or even back on the _Normandy._

Resisting the temptation, Tali carefully pushed away the armor covering the remains of Legion’s torso. Its insides were cracked and charred, suggesting Legion’s personality dissemination had not been as harmless as it looked.

Tali rolled her neck, trying to work out the stiffness that wormed its way in as she examined the body.

Cleaning the circuitry would only do good, but ultimately, the geth would need to replace a good portion of the circuitry and plating for optimal functionality. She simply wasn’t sure if the geth _knew_ that, and tapped a finger against her waist, trying to recall a time she’d seen a geth engaged in self-maintenance that was not necessary for survival.

Tali stood, shrugging her shoulders and flexing her fingers as she made her way to the small box of cleaning supplies in the far corner. She needed more _space,_ but pushing Legion onto a second table wouldn’t do anything except stretch her arms out. Moving a second table perpendicular to the first was a feasible enough idea.

Tali examined the box. It was filled with mostly unused solvents and cleaning rags—right now, the quarians were more concerned with building. Cleaning would come later. It was not a mindset Tali agreed with, but she was finished questioning the quarians.

They, Tali thought bitterly, poking through the box, put me up in a nice home with the honorary title of ‘Admiral’, and changed my security codes.

Tali carried the box to the table. With a quiet, frustrated groan, she pulled an extra table over, setting it against the one that held Legion’s body.

Tali wondered what Shepard and the others would think of this.

Shepard would probably be happy. So would Liara. The others…Tali suspected their reactions would range from to surprise to frustration to anger.

Tali sprayed a solvent onto the charred circuitry. Despite the unique scent the geth maintained, Tali thought she could still pick up the uniquely tangy smell of the solvent. It reminded Tali of the foods Shepard insisted on buying at every human-friendly planet. Purples?

The quarian sighed. Picking up a scrub-brush, she began to rub away the black grit.

Oranges. Shepard loved eating oranges. Tali shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable at the reality of being alone. Her eyes ached.

 “I don’t _mind_ working alone,” Tali muttered. “But right now I would even talk to _you,_ Legion.”

The burning was more substantial than Tali suspected, and twenty minutes later, she was still wiping away the grimy black stuff.

Not for the first time, she considered activating Chikkita.

“But then again, if you two were online, I wouldn’t be here.” Tali grimaced as a substantial piece of armor came apart in her hands. “And I think I would’ve been killed for that.”

Tali yawned again.

“I wonder when the geth are expecting you to be fixed and back online. Alive. Whatever.”

She set down the brush and picked up a cloth. It was a soft thing, better suited to polishing than cleaning, but it would do.

“Because this is certainly not going to be done tonight. Not if they want you back with a functional processor.”

Feeling a burst of courage, Tali reached up and gently tapped Legion’s head-panels with her free hand.

“We’ll get it done, Legion. Don’t worry about it.”

Slightly disheartened when there was no response, Tali continued to clean.

After another ten minutes, Tali smiled.

“Good. Now lets just reset those cables. Splicing them together with a power converter that transfers extra energy instead of building it up should do the trick. At least until they can find a replacement.”

She glanced around, pushing back the chair and reaching to grab the cables. They were smaller and weaker than the cables the geth used, but they would do. Coupled with some electric tape and a few whispered curses, Tali was soon elbow-deep in geth circuitry.

She tapped her foot, trying to see the best place to patch this cable to the next.

Frustrating as it was, it was fascinating to be able to truly work on a geth platform. As she worked, Tali could feel her curiosity getting the better of her with every new discovery in the geth’s systems.

“Keelah.” Tali let her hand rest against Legion’s spinal stabilizer as she peeked into its core. “Not to sound like Admiral Xen, but…everything we could learn.”

Her conscience tugged at her immediately and Tali withdrew her hand, feeling her face go hot with shame.

“But…not like this.”

Tali connected the cables to their source, pleased when they seemed to fit without a problem.

“I’m not going to start another Morning War poking around inside you, Legion. I hope you can appreciate that.”

Legion’s power core rebooted with a soft click, which quickly smoothed into a quiet hum.

Tali yawned, stretching out her shoulders and hands. She stood and placed her omni-tool next to Legion, setting it to run a simple diagnostic scan while the core was getting back online.

She walked over to a garage window. Windows were a luxury she was still getting used to—on the flotilla they were rare, and ones in living quarters even more so. And she hadn’t had a chance to see the _Normandy’s_ observation decks often, especially towards the end of the war.

The sun was beginning to rise above the mountains. Tali’s heart leapt—it was a simple sight, surely one she would get used to in time, but for now, Rannoch sunrises were the most beautiful displays of organic life she had ever seen.

Tali watched as the sun rose, streaming through the clouds to hit the cold ground and new settlements equally. The quarians would be waking up soon, going to take over what the geth had been working on during the night. An admiral or two would be seen patrolling the settlement, partially for show, mostly to ensure everything wasn’t going to the varren.

She yawned again and turned away, and sat back down. The omni-tool was still scanning.

Tali went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd. I am enjoying writing this, though!


	3. Chapter 3

“Tali’Zorah!”

Her back _hurt._

Tali groaned as she tried, and failed, to sit up. The muscles in her back throbbed and she reached back to rub them, letting her eyes close again.

“Just a few more minutes. Please. It’s so…”

She let her head droop, hitting the hard metal of the table.

“Comfortable in here.”

“Tali’Zorah vas Normandy!”

Tali shouted a reply, mustering all the will she could dredge up.

She lifted her head, only to jerk back and fall flat on her behind when faced with Legion’s eerily blank optic.

It was still offline, the same dull grey as the rest of its armor. But Legion’s core was now making soft clicks and hums, and though it was quiet, Tali swore she could hear the unique geth stutter-speak.

“No no not now—” Heart racing, Tali grabbed a tarp and threw it over Legion’s body. The shape wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny, but if there was just a glance or two…

She staggered upright. Tali limped over, quickly keying in the access code and pushing open the flimsy door.

“Tali’Zorah.”

“Sal’Nimar.” Tali nodded. Though Sal could not see it, Tali forced a smile onto her face. “How can I help?”

“Tali’Zorah. Er. Admiral Xen wants to see you.” Sal’Nimar fidgeted with his suit. “She seems to believe the geth are. Er. Conspiring. I think that was the word she used.”

Tali crossed her arms. Of _course_ Xen would think that.

And of course the geth had dumped the prime suspect at her door.

“Does she have any proof of this?”

Sal’Nimar shrugged.

“Admiral Xen will be at Se’lai Point in twenty minutes.” Sal shuffled backwards. “I’m sure she answer all your. Um. Questions.”

“Sure.” Tali’s shoulders stiffened. “Thanks, Sal’Nimar.”

The other quarian took a step back, looking down at the ground. Then took another, significantly larger, step back.

“Sal. Just Sal.”

Then turned and practically ran out of sight.

Tali shook her head.

Belatedly, she realized it had rained while she slept. The geth had informed them this was a fairly common occurrence—despite the appearance of the planet, there was a 45.84 percent chance of rain during the early morning or late evening hours.

The thought filled Tali with simultaneous excitement and anxiety as she locked the garage door and rechecked it twice. She left her shotgun where it lay, resting against one of the garage tables and set out to Se’lai Point.

Most of Rannoch’s landmarks and named sites had been lost to history. Consequently, the quarians had run into numerous problems coordinating and deciding on named locations, unwilling as they were to use exact coordinates, or the geth’s designations of the land.

As she approached the cliff, Tali’s stomach turned.

She had not returned since the Reaper had been destroyed.

She still remembered adrenaline running ice-cold in her veins as Legion uploaded the codes while she and Shepard begged Gerrel and Xen to stand down. Their plan _worked,_ Tali knew, as she kicked a small rock down the cliff, but if it hadn’t…

“Tali.”

Xen was already there.

Accompanied by two guards and wielding a sinister and heavily-modded assault rifle, Admiral Xen’s presence easily made Tali waver.

“Admiral.”

Xen nodded, taking the lead as she walked to the edge of the cliff. Tali followed.

“Rannoch is…” Xen hesitated. “The vids do not do it justice.”

Tali nodded. On that at least, they could agree. The sun was drying what remained of the rain, letting warm light into the crisp morning air.

“I imagined it was a cold planet.” Tali admitted.

“No matter the truth, it is our perceptions that decide our actions.” Xen turned to stare into her helmet, and Tali nearly flinched. “I hope you understand what I am saying.”

“I think so.”

Xen reached out and placed a hand on Tali’s shoulder. Her grip felt like iron.

“I will be blunt with you, Tali. We know the geth have decided to organize themselves. Despite our recent history, the Admiralty Board cannot see any way this action will result in lasting peace.”

“Speaking as a member of the Admiralty Board,” Tali said carefully. “I think the geth are just trying to emulate our style of leadership.”

A lie, Tali knew, but she was not about to implicate herself in whatever the geth were really planning.

Geth did not _lie—_ not exactly, and not often. Tali reasoned it was harder to come to a consensus, to decide what the false story would be. The easier solution was refusing to offer an answer.

Xen tightened her grip on Tali’s shoulder.

“Tali.” The ice in the other admiral’s voice came to a head, then vanished within the space of two syllables.

“Think of our people. Even if they shared your…unique view, the geth’s actions now are no different than the ones that began the Morning War!”

“Then what is your solution, Admiral?” Tali took a careful step forward, and Xen let go.

Tali felt her pulse drop in relief. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if Xen _hadn’t_ let go.

“Demand access to their technology and hardware. They have already been granted access to our suits and omni-tools.” Xen’s shoulders stiffened. “I see no reason why we should not be afforded the same privileges.”

“Admiral, that is something you will have to ask the geth.” Helplessly frustrated, Tali gestured to herself. “I am not a geth representative.”

Though she _was_ keeping one in the garage, Tali thought darkly.

“I have.” Xen crossed her arms. “They have refused all my requests.”

Uncomfortable, Tali shifted in place.

“I am not sure what you want me to do, Admiral.”

Xen took a step forward.

“I want you to take my side. Ancestors know that fool Koris won’t, and Raan will never make a decision until the four of us have already made it for her.”

Tali glared, hands balling up into fists.

“I am not going to take ‘your side’ until I have all the facts.”

“Such as?”

“Such as what you plan to do with this information once you have it.” Bleakly, Tali recalled Xen’s wishes to return the geth to quarian control. Keelah, Xen had said as much in front of Legion, and likely in front of other geth since then. It was no surprise they were refusing.

“That depends on the type of data I receive.”

Tali stared up at Xen, who looked down at her impassively. Inside the suit, Tali was already beginning to sweat, and she regretted agreeing to come up here while the sun was still up.

Her omni-tool chimed.

Not caring that she jumped like a startled pyjack, Tali pulled up the messages—a blatantly disrespectful action, but it was a distraction.

Her stomach dropped.

“I apologize, Admiral Xen.” Tali bowed her head. “I need to take care of something at home.”

Xen nodded.

“I eagerly await your reply, Tali’Zorah.” The other quarian turned, facing the horizon. “Keelah se’lai.”

Tali mumbled the farewell, turned, and began the long walk home.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on having less abrupt endings, but what can you do. Constructive feedback is always appreciated. Thank you guys for all the kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening now. Woah! A huge thank you to everyone who's bookmarked and/or left kudos :)

Beneath the tarp, the platform was stuttering.

Tali pulled back the cover.

The geth’s unique stutter-speak merely increased in volume, static-laced breaks becoming more apparent as it talked even _faster_ than before. Legion’s optic flickered once, then went blank.

For a moment, Tali froze.

The geth wanted her present when Legion was reactivated, but Legion was online _now,_ and something— _many_ somethings—were broken.

“Legion?” In Shepard’s vids, talking always seemed to fix damaged sapients—even bringing them back from _death._

A stutter was her only response.

Tali squeezed Legion’s shoulder.

“Hold on, Legion.”

Motor systems were the priority. Even if Legion couldn’t understand her, Tali knew what it felt like to be fully aware and unable to move. With suit upgrades came malfunctions—all of which had been resolved before her Pilgrimage, but the memories of her body unable to respond even to the most basic commands were some of the strongest she had.

Tali swallowed. When had she started thinking of Legion as an _equal?_

Legion stuttered a reply.

Activating her omni-tool, Tali glanced over the results of the scans she had begun during the night. Legion’s power core would need constant maintenance to stop energy drains, its optical sensor was disconnected from the rest of its processes, and motor functions had been locked down.

“Easy enough.” Tali tapped her omni-tool.

_0% - - - charging. Hold._

“Just a few more minutes.” The materials composing Legion’s arms were slightly more pliant than its armor, giving Tali the illusion of holding onto a person.

A click.

“Tali’Zorah.”

Tali jumped, letting go of Legion’s arm and taking a step back. She waited, hearing her heart thud in her ears as garbled speech smoothed out into words, then sentences.

“Records indicate we were deactivated approximately half a standard year ago.”

She glanced at her omni-tool.

_10% - - - charging. Hold._

Then:

“Creator Zorah?”

Tali took a half step forward.

“I'm still here.”

“We disseminated our personality in order to ensure the survival of our race. What happened to us, Creator Zorah?”

“Tali,” she said automatically. “It’s…a long story.” Or a short one.

“The geth brought you back,” Tali said. “They need your help.”

_15% - - - charging. Hold._

“Elaborate.”

She shrugged, then spoke.

“You’d have to ask them.”

“Connections are currently limited. Our upgrades are not sufficient to link us to the consensus without further damage.”

“Can you call one of them? A geth?”

“Affirmative. Transmitting coordinates.”

Tali sighed.

_25% - - - charging. Hold._

“Vocal analyses indicate high levels of stress present in your system.”

Again, she sighed.

“It’s been a long couple of days, Legion.”

“Recommend supplementing current routine with additional nutritional income and rest.”

Tali shook her head. “I’m going to try and get your optic back up and running.”

Speaking to Legion was _eerie_. Normally, there was something for Tali to focus on, even if it was just its head paneling or the single optic. But though they were talking, Legion was gray and still, and Tali found herself replying to the empty air.

“Appreciated.”

Tali pushed back Legion’s helm, carefully stepping onto the chair and leaning over his chest. She didn’t know if the geth could feel what she was doing, but it couldn't be _comfortable_ by any stretch of the imagination, even if they didn’t feel pain.

Navigating by touch, she inserted her fingers into an induction port. It was made for a geth, which gave Tali slightly more room to maneuver, but quickly discovered her arm wasn’t long enough to reach the optical processors.

She glanced at her omni-tool.

_70% - - - charging. Beginning installation._

“Legion.”

“Yes?”

Tali wiggled her arm.

Her wrist was caught.

“Keelah…”

She tugged.

It felt like a piece of her suit had snagged onto a cross-section of piping. Not for the first time, Tali cursed her suit.

“Creator Zorah.” Legion sounded…anxious.

Tali attributed it to pushing her emotions onto the geth’s quiet monotone.

“Legion?” Tali swallowed, and checked her omni-tool.

_90% - - - installation complete. Beginning setup._

“Don’t move.”

“We will be unable to move for approximately 1 minute.”

Tali groaned.

“When your motor functions activate, Legion.”

“Acknowledged.”

Belatedly, Tali examined her position. Despite her uncomfortable position, crouched atop the chair and stretching her torso over Legion while her arm was in Legion’s neck, it was unlikely any abrupt movements on Legion’s part would seriously damage her.

Visions of shattered arms and Legion dragging her around like a broken doll filled Tali’s vision for a moment.

The quarian shook her head.

Her omni-tool beeped.

“Tali’Zorah?”

“Yes?”

“Systems resetting. Any movement is unintentional.” Legion paused. “We…apologize.”

Tali’s heart dropped.

“Legion!”

Tali began tugging at her arm with renewed fervor. She felt armor and panels shift beneath her, as her fingers hit sensors and cabling in a mad fight to be free.

Legion beeped.

Tali clamped her suit tight around her arm. If nothing else, that might protect her from the pressure she was certain Legion was about to exert when it finished restarting.

Letting out a quiet, frustrated cry, Tali forced her arm forward, and _pulled._

Her arm popped loose.

Legion’s optic flared to life.

The geth sat up, effortlessly knocking Tali over. She tumbled to the floor and rolled to her feet.

Her hand ached, but it wasn’t broken.

Relieved, Tali sighed.

Legion’s own hands began to move, slowly, then clenching into fists, before stretching out to grab the edges of the table.

Slowly, the geth sat up. Its optic focused and refocused on its surroundings, eventually settling on Tali.

The quarian remained where she stood. Legion hadn’t spoken yet, and it was acting…strange. As if this was all unfamiliar.

Legion stuttered, inclining its head at her. Tali returned the gesture, wondering if it knew she couldn’t understand—if it knew it wasn’t speaking in a way quarians could understand.

Legion swung its legs over the table.

It looked down at the ground, then back at her.

“Creator Tali’Zorah.”

Despite herself, despite the uncertainty hidden behind her helmet, Tali smiled.

“Legion.”

“You have our thanks.”

Legion’s head paneling shifted.

“We did not anticipate this outcome.”

Mimicking its gesture, Tali tilted her head.

“Neither did we. Shepard and I, I mean.” Tali swallowed. “She—we thought you were dead. The geth told us.”

Legion bobbed its head.

“Dissemination of programs is one of the geth equivalents to your ‘death’.” In another instant, its head panels clicked, then flattened. “Estimated recovery time: two-thousand standard hours.”

Tali stiffened.

“Two _thousand_ hours until you’re fixed?”

“Negative. Clarification required. We approximate the geth devoted an estimated two thousand hours to recovering the fragments of our data programs.” Legion looked at its hand. “Us.”

Innately, Tali felt this was the moment Shepard would’ve had something clever, yet meaningful and kind, to say. Something about how it was all worth it, how they were all glad to have Legion back…

“Oh.” Was all she could think to say.  “But you’re fixed now?”

“Negative.” Legion pointed to its chest. “Our power core will require more thorough repairs, and a complete synchronization and defragmentation process is needed.”

Tali nodded—those words, at least, she could understand.

“We also require access to the consensus.”

Tali blinked.

“You said that before. You can’t connect to the geth right now?”

Legion looked down, and for the second time in her life, Tali sensed she was watching a geth experience _shame._

“Correct.” Legion glanced up at her for a moment, before refocusing on the floor. “Geth security protocols and firewalls have been updated. Our software is not compatible with theirs.”

“How are you going to fix it?” Tali straightened her shoulders. “Is that something the other geth can do?”

Legion nodded.

“I have requested a geth sentry rendezvous here to upload the newest protocols into my systems.”

Tali sighed. Legion, at least, was looking slightly better—it had stopped looking at the ground, and instead was focusing on the ceiling and walls.

“All right.” Tali crossed her arms. “What do we do until then?”

Legion looked at her.

“Wait.”


	5. Chapter 5

“So…it’s not going to be instant?”

“Correct.”

Tali rolled her shoulders and shifted her feet, trying to make herself more comfortable as she looked up at the geth.

“Why can’t you receive it over a distance?”

Legion mimicked her stance, head paneling clicking up and outwards in a gesture that somehow resembled confusion.

“Clarify.”

“What I meant was: why can’t the geth just send your upgrades to your omni-tool?”

Legion’s head bobbed.

“The size of the file exceeds standard limits for omni-tool transfers. Additionally, we do not believe Rannoch’s channels are secure.”

Tali felt her back stiffen.

“You think the quarians are _spying_ on you?”

As always, Legion seemed unbothered by Tali’s tone.

“Given the opportunity, do you believe they would refrain?”

 _“Yes.”_ Tali hated the ice in her voice almost as much as she hated the lie—it reminded her of Xen, and _Xen_ would spy on the geth. Xen would have leapt at the opportunity to see the inside of a geth.

The thought made Tali’s stomach turn.

“They’re my people,” Tali said quietly, dropping her hands to her sides. She hadn’t realized they had balled up into fists—what had she been planning to do— _punch_ Legion? “I can’t—I have to believe that.”

Legion was silent.

Tali looked up at the geth, wondering at the hundreds of digital minds behind its single optic.

“We acknowledge your belief, Tali’Zorah.” Legion’s head plating flipped up. “Further contention is unnecessary. Undesirable.”

Tali stepped back.

“Okay.” She sighed. “Thanks, Legion.”

Legion nodded.

“We request your hand receive medical attention.”

“Oh.” Tali looked down at her hand. “Yeah.”

“Additionally, we repeat our recommendation of rest and nutritional intake.” Legion reached out to touch her forearm. Tali forced herself to relax, but there was no pressure on her injured wrist, no unwanted follow-through when she pulled back to look at her arm.

It ached, and she could feel the skin and muscle swelling under her suit. She would need to seal off the suit before any infection could spread. Even now, Tali could feel the fever. It was getting just a little too _cold_ in the garage; the warmth leaking from Legion’s platform felt nice, but not nice enough.

“Legion…”

Legion lowered its head.

“Tali’Zorah. Your internal temperature is rising above acceptable levels.” Legion’s shoulders straightened, and for a moment, Tali thought the geth was going to pick her up and _carry_ her back to the house. “Repairs are highly suggested. We will offer you our assistance.”

Tali shook her head.

“I’ll be okay.” She stepped back, activating her omni-tool and ordering a set of antibiotics to be delivered via her suit. “Wait here until I get back.”

Her feet felt heavier than a krogan’s, but Tali shuffled out the garage, not waiting to hear Legion’s reply.

The noontime sun beat down on her helmet, bringing much-welcomed warmth, but adding a new and hated exhaustion.

Practically crying from the effort, Tali dragged herself into the doorway.

Not bothering to turn the lights on, she stumbled into the bathroom.

Her hand was no more than a dead weight at her side. Wincing, Tali lifted her arm up to the counter and sealed off the primary and secondary sections.

It was still swelling.

Gingerly, Tali pulled part of the suit off.

Her skin was hot to the touch, blood and sweat mixed together under the durable fabrics. Gently, Tali ran her fingers across her arm, trying to find the place that had been injured.

It was still a marvel to feel her own skin—even if it only happened when she was injured. She had not yet allowed a geth into her suit to begin the inoculation program—there hadn’t been time, and despite everything, it was far too much like linking suits (virtual or otherwise) for Tali’s taste.

She felt it, the gash filled with blood and torn cloth mixed with the smallest bits of Rannoch’s dirt and the geth’s internal coolant.

Tali ordered another set of antibiotics.

The bandage fit snug around her wrist, though when Tali tried to lock her suit back into place, the diameter of her arm had swollen well past the maximum limits the suit’s extensions allowed.

Her heart pounded. Leaving her suit off was unthinkable—despite her medical care and the relative cleanliness of her house, keeping it out in the open would do nothing but harm.

Not for the first time, Tali wished Shepard were here. If the commander did not have a solution, her presence was more than enough to clear Tali’s mind.

Instead she was stuck with a defective geth, a fever, and a lacerated arm.

Slowly, Tali shuffled to the bed. With her good hand, she sent a message to Legion, requesting the geth remain out of sight for the time being, and reassuring it she would be out in an hour.

Though it was a military-issue mattress pulled from one of the liveships, Tali was certain she had never felt anything better in her whole life. Carefully, she drew the covers up to her chest, leaving her injured arm out.

Legion had already replied: It would do as she requested, and would not disturb her unless asked.

Though the geth could not see her, Tali nodded as she closed her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

When her eyes opened again, it was dark.

She sat up slowly, but there was no pain in her head or arm. A tentative touch to the injury revealed more than a look could: the swelling had gone down, and it felt like her wrist, and not a burning rock attached to her arm.

Gently, Tali reattached her suit but kept her arm sealed off. She swung her legs off the bed and stood on uncertain knees, then walked back to the garage.

Frowning, she tried to puzzle through the events of the last two days—it felt like weeks since the geth had knocked on her door asking her to repair Legion, but it had only been about a day.

The new geth was there. Tali recognized it as one of the geth snipers.

Its black armor nearly mirrored Legion’s, but where Legion had cracked plating, this geth’s armor was clean. Impeccable.

The geth looked up at her as she entered.

“Creator Tali’Zorah.” The geth gestured to Legion. “We thank you.”

Tali looked at Legion.

The taller geth remained motionless. Its head was lowered, and from this position, Tali could see the cables connecting Legion to this geth.

They were still exchanging data.

“Is it—Legion—alright?”

The geth nodded.

“Our repairs were incomplete. Legion requires full reconnection with the consensus. For now, we are transferring current security upgrades and his most recent archived programs.”

The knowledge that Legion had chosen a pronoun was _strange—_ but not as strange as it would have been two years ago—or even six months ago.

“Full reconnection?” Tali asked instead. “You mean how Shepard went into your consensus?”

“Correct.” The geth shifted from foot to foot, and if she didn’t know better, Tali might’ve guessed it was uncomfortable.

“We are extending that invitation to you.”

Abruptly, Tali looked up.

“What?”

The geth’s face remained impassive. Unsurprised.

“We are extending that invitation to you.”

“No, I heard you the first time. I…” Tali sighed. “Why?”

“You have demonstrated a willingness to understand us. To compromise.” The geth stepped back, and Tali heard Legion’s glitched power core restarting. “We wish to facilitate future communications.”

Legion’s optic flickered online.

“Tali’Zorah.” Carefully, Legion disconnected itself from the other geth and stepped forward. “You have recovered.”

“Sort of.” Tali looked at Legion, then at the other geth.

“Entering the consensus now is the wisest course of action,” the sniper said. “We have been anticipating Legion’s return for 92 standard days and 21 standard hours.”

Legion looked at Tali.

“Dej has asked you to come with us.”

“…Dej?”

Legion looked back at the other geth.

“Oh. Um. Yes. It did.” Tali looked at the ground. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Refusal is acceptable.”

“You have to understand.” Tali said finally. “I’d give my _life_ meet your consensus and see the way it works. I just…”

“We are judged unsafe to guard your body.”

Tali sighed. Sometimes there were upsides to Legion being so smart.

“Yes.”

Legion nodded at Dej.

“Dej will guard you. We have judged its programs ourselves.”

“Okay.” She offered the other geth a nervous smile. It stared back. “Lead the way.”

Dej piloted the hovercar to the consensus. The geth estimated they would arrive in five standard hours, though judging from Dej’s driving style, Tali privately cut that time in half. More than once she found herself clinging to the door as the geth took a too-sharp turn, and several times she was thrown against Legion’s patched side. As the vehicle screeched to a stop to avoid hitting a tree, Tali began to regret her decision to eat before leaving.

Legion moved forward and was almost thrown into Tali’s lap as Dej started driving again. Wordless communication must have passed between them, because Dej’s driving immediately smoothed out and after a moment, Tali began to relax.

The newly serene atmosphere gave Tali the chance to look out the window without hitting her helmet against the glass.

The stars over Rannoch still seemed brighter than any stars she had ever seen before. She knew that it wasn’t actually true, that Rannoch’s air was just as clean as the air on any other newly-colonized planet, and that the sunsets weren’t more or less spectacular than anywhere else but somehow, they _were._

Tali leaned against the glass.

It was home. A home shared with a strange group of sometimes-hostile synthetics that were developing personalities and identities faster than anyone could have anticipated.

“Tali’Zorah.”

“Quarians require more rest than geth. Allow her to recharge.”

“Affirmative.”

Tali felt _warm._ A hand steadied her as the world rocked, then went back to stillness.

“There yet?” She mumbled.

The air above her shifted.

“Yes.”

Then:

“We are waiting for you to disembark.”

Tali sighed, though it was a noise of exhaustion rather than one of annoyance.

“Be out in a minute.”

“We judge that highly unlikely.” A hand touched the side of her helmet. “Rest, Tali. We will wait for you.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates! Been having computer problems, then double posting problems, but I'll be getting back to weekly updates now.

It was raining. 

She heard first: the patter of water splashing off the roof, feeding Rannoch’s flora and fauna in a continuous cycle. 

One far preferable to the Reapers. 

Tali yawned. Exhaustion had settled in—Tali was ready to sleep for the rest of the day. 

The events of the last thirty-six hours felt hazy and unreal. Almost like a strange simulator game or one of the _Blasto_ movies. 

_Invited into the geth consensus._ Tali stifled a laugh.

She reached for the center of the warmth and pulled it over her shoulders, stopping only when she felt malleable polymer beneath her gloved fingers. 

Mortified, Tali dropped it and began efforts to sit up. Newly-awake vision was blurry as always, but she was still in Dej’s hovercar—that hadn’t been part of any dream. 

Tali cringed as Legion’s power core restarted. 

She was not sure how aware geth were when powered down—instinctively, Tali wanted to liken it to organics sleeping, but for all she knew it was a form of standby mode. 

“Tali’Zorah.”

Despite herself, Tali forced back a yawn. 

“Legion.” 

The geth stared at her, optic whirring and head panels clicking into place. 

“We calculate that you have not yet obtained the minimum amount of sleep deemed healthy by quarian standards. We recommend continuing to rest.” 

“No, Legion.” While it had not been _unpleasant,_ Tali had no intention of sleeping in Legion’s lap again. “I’m fine. Let’s go get you fixed.” 

Legion nodded, quickly following her out of the hovercar. 

Dej was waiting for them. 

The building looked exactly like the one Legion had taken them to nearly a year ago, when Shepard entered the consensus. But this time, active geth patrolled the perimeter, and even more geth wandered in and out. 

Instinctively, Tali stepped beside Legion. 

“The geth know you, Tali.” Legion said. “There is no reason to fear us.” 

Tali nearly laughed.  

“Besides the times you sided with the Reapers and tried to steal my omni-tool? And—” Tali squinted. “Why did you call me Tali?” 

Legion pulled up a screen. Dej responded to the action in the geth’s stuttering native language, then Legion nodded as Dej wandered down the hall, sniper rifle in its hands. 

“That is your name.” 

“Yes. But you always call me Tali’Zorah, or Creator Tali’Zorah, or Creator Zorah.” 

While still typing, Legion turned to look at her, which gave her the mental image of someone blindly hitting the buttons on a keyboard and hoping for the solution to present itself. 

“We will amend our references if it bothers you.” 

“No.” Tali crossed her arms. “I just wanted to know why.” 

A pod hissed open. 

“Our programs are working to restore the amended Reaper codes.” Legion paused as Tali looked at the pod, then at the geth. “The codes are responsible for rewiring several higher-order runtimes. It appears that order has been repaired.” 

Tali’s heart pounded as she glanced at the pod.

“So given enough time, you’d be able to fix yourself?” 

“If left unassisted, current estimates range from one to three standard years. Those estimates do not account for security upgrades.” Legion’s optic narrowed. “We do not wish to impose our will upon you. Entering the consensus is not required. We are capable of accomplishing this task alone.” 

“I’ll do it.” Tali swallowed, stepping into the pod before Legion could offer her a way out again. “Scan me, or whatever you did to Shepard.” 

“Affirmative.”

Hot blue light filtered through her helmet, hitting her eyes directly. Tali blinked furiously, wishing she could wipe the resulting tears away. 

“Tali.” 

She looked up. 

The pod’s door was hissing shut and Legion was still trying to talk to her. Frustrated, the quarian shook her head.

“I can’t understand—”

Another light, white and hotter than the last, flashed into her eyes. 

Cringing, Tali hunched over, wishing she could wipe her eyes. Distantly, she heard the door to the pod open, and she stumbled out, blinking back tears as her boots landed on sparkling white floors.

A box. 

It was a gridded box, with walls polished and white and shining. The platform she stood on floated aimlessly, and there was no way down Tali could see—not that she _wanted_ to get to the ground. 

The floor seemed miles away. It shone with a dim inner light, giving her the illusion she was standing in the field of a dying sun. 

_Poetic._

Reflexively, she reached up to her ear, intending to comm Legion. If what Shepard told her was true, the geth couldn’t be far away. 

Instead, soft strands of hair touched her fingers. 

Startled, Tali pulled her hand back. 

“Tali.” 

The quarian whipped around. 

Legion was approaching. White tiles appeared wherever the geth stepped, creating a straight path to her and the pod. 

“Legion.” Tali let out a slow, relieved breath. “I thought I was alone in here.” 

Legion shook its head. Even Legion glimmered in the dim light. 

“You are among millions, Tali.” the geth raised its head—proud? Defiant? Tali couldn’t tell. “Welcome to our consensus.” 

Tali swallowed. 

“It’s very beautiful.” she admitted. “But not what I expected.” 

“Previous scans allowed us to partially modify the consensus. You now translate it into understandable data, but it is subject to modification from outside sources.” 

Tali shook her head. 

“I don’t get it.” 

Legion’s optic widened, head panels flipping up. 

It was silent for a moment. 

Tali waited.

Then:

“Shepard-commander did not see an identical consensus. Changes based on physiology and environment have been made.” Legion nodded. “We wish to know your thoughts on the removal of your helmet.” 

Tali jumped. 

Slowly, she reached up to feel her face. 

Legion was right. Her helmet was completely gone, and she hadn’t even _noticed._ Gently, she touched her cheeks, then her nose, marveling at the feeling of her skin under her fingers. 

“It’s _amazing.”_ Even if it wasn’t entirely real. “But why?”

Legion tilted its head.

“While you were being scanned, we inquired regarding your helmet. You indicated a negative response.” 

“Oh.” Tali shrugged, glancing at the ground. “Yeah.” 

Not about to tell Legion the truth, she forced her hands away from her face and turned to the geth. 

“Let’s get back to you.” she swallowed. “Ready when you are.” 

* * *

 

“Data points will allow us to retrieve recently archived codes and install upgrades.” 

The walk was shorter than she expected, and Legion was more willing to talk than ever before. 

The seemingly-pristine walls were practically painted with layer upon layer of codes Tali could barely _try_ to interpret. As she got closer they faded, then returned stronger and more vibrant than before. 

Patiently, Legion explained they were the lower runtime’s functions: walking, sitting, powering up. 

“And it’s all out there for you to see and change whenever you want?” 

“Yes.” 

Tali fell silent for a moment. 

Before she could reply, Legion spoke again. 

“We have arrived.”

Someone else—quarian—was speaking. 

“—ence between—…nd pleasure, geth.” 

“We do not wish to cause the creators pain.” 

“Good.” 

Tali’s breath caught in her throat as the hologram flickered to life: it was a quarian—older, from the suit model, standing an arm’s length from a geth. 

“Beginning data download.” 

The quarian reached out and touched the geth’s hand. 

“Pleasure.” 

“Pleasure.” The geth repeated. 

With a deft touch, the quarian maneuvered the geth, until it was practically embracing the smaller sapient. 

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure.” 

Abruptly, the quarian shoved the geth away.

“Pain!”

“Pain.” The geth seemed unbothered. 

“Those are just empty motions,” Tali muttered. “You can’t teach meanings like that.” 

Legion looked up. 

“The basic idea was conveyed correctly. However.” Legion paused, long enough for Tali to look back at the geth platform. “We learned more about those ideas during our time with _Normandy.”_

“Of course.” Tali nodded. “You had Shepard. And…well, not many more great examples, but it’s better than nothing.” 

“Your example is equal to Shepard’s.” 

Legion met her startled look with its unmoving gaze. 

“You risked the future of your people for the possibility of the geth’s.”

“Because Shepard was there!”

“We do not believe Shepard-Commander’s presence is the only rationalization.” The platform leaned closer. “We believe you are capable of acting without Shepard-Commander’s presence.” 

“That’s not what I meant!” 

“Elaborate.” Legion stood. “We may proceed.” 

Tali followed Legion stride for stride.

“I _know_ I can do things without Shepard. Remember, I went through my entire life before my Pilgrimage, and the whole _two years_ she was being rebuilt by Cerberus with no input from Shepard whatsoever.”

“You credit Shepard-Commander for shaping your best attributes: loyalty, respect, compassion. Data analysis indicates those traits were present before meeting Shepard-Commander.” 

“You’ve been _spying_ on me?” 

Tali’s head hurt. She wasn’t here to fight with Legion, in the consensus of all places, about something she wasn’t even sure the geth understood. 

“Gathering data.”

Ahead of them, Tali could hear quarians and geth talking. 

“Why?” 

“We believe that the key to understanding is knowledge.” Legion’s head panels snapped up. “It is clear that is not always true.” 

“No.” Tali saw the dim holograms ahead, thin illusions of light and sound, forever acting out some scene in history. “It’s not.” 

_“—it’s good to see you again.”_

Tali flinched. 

_“Likewise, Creator Zorah.”_

“Beginning data extraction.” Legion announced. 

“Why is this here?” With one hand, Tali gestured to the scene playing above them. 

“We interpreted it as highly significant. Your greeting, your remorse. We believe it was genuine. Runtimes review this moment consistently, but data points are randomized.” Legion tilted its head and knelt, fingers accessing unknowable geth code. “You are the only quarian who has willingly worked alongside geth when other options were available to you.” 

Tali swallowed, resisting the urge to scratch her head. 

“Well...” 

Tali looked up at the hologram. It had not restarted, but instead had frozen with Shepard, Tali, and Garrus looking up at Legion. 

She would never admit it, but seeing Legion—seeing _anyone—_ held against their will like that nauseated her. 

Even so, she kept her eyes on the hologram Legion, frozen perfectly in time. 

“Why haven’t you fixed that hole in your chest?” 

She heard Legion’s plating shift into place. 

“Data indicates it is highly improbable a target will be able to inflict adequate damage needed to stop us. We have noticed it allows non-geth to easily distinguish us.” Legion paused. “We do not feel pain.”

“Yes, but you could still _fix_ it.” Tali looked down at the geth. “Non-suit repairs aren’t my forte, but even I could have it patched in less than an hour.” 

Legion tilted its head, then looked down. 

Tali sighed. In its own way, talking with Legion was a wonderfully new experience. 

On the other…

It was _exhausting._

“Legion.” Trying not to appear confrontational, Tali knelt, trying to meet the geth’s ‘eye’. “Do you want me to fix your armor?”

The platform was silent. 

Tali took a slow breath in, then exhaled. With every breath she quietly pushed back the soft, insistent frustrations and angers dwelling in her chest.  

Gently, she reached out to touch the side of Legion’s head. Her fingers found scratches in the smooth plating and despite herself, she moved to rest her hand at the top of its head. 

“Legion?” 

The geth looked up.

“It would be welcomed, Tali’Zorah.” 

Tali felt herself smile. 

“We’ll put that on the agenda.” 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy N7 day, here's an early update?!

“This is the last data point.” 

It was the geth and the quarian from the first hologram.

Legion knelt and began working, leaving Tali to watch the scene unfold. 

The geth was strapped to a table. Clearly, it was used to this: its head did not turn to watch the quarian as its creator bustled about, arranging screens only they could see. 

Tali drew in a breath of air and sat next to Legion, drawing her knees up to her chest. 

“What’s going to happen?” 

“Creator Naefor believed the Morning War would be won by turning geth to their side.”

“Hacking them.” 

“Yes.” 

At some invisible signal, the geth jerked forward, fighting against its restraints. It screamed in unintelligible static, but Naefor continued. 

Tali winced when the sound was cut off. 

She felt hot tears spring to her eyes, but it took a moment for her to realize she could wipe them away.

“We apologize,” Legion said. “Data is assigned randomly to separate servers. This was not our intention.”

Tali nodded. 

“I know, Legion.” 

Above them, Naefor and the geth continued to replay history.

“What happened? To Naefor?” 

“Creator Naefor was destroyed along with this facility approximately three standard hours later.” 

“So the geth got their revenge.” 

“Revenge is known to the geth only in theory.” Legion stood. “Creator Naefor’s viral attacks drained power from the building’s more vital systems. Taking advantage of that weakness was a sound tactic.”

“I guess so.” 

Legion stood. Tali wiped her eyes again, marveling briefly at the sensation, then got to her feet.

“What happened to that geth?”

“It survived.” Legion inclined its head, then continued. “After the Morning War, it assisted in this planet’s repair.” 

Tali blinked.

“You’re talking about it like it’s dead.” 

Legion’s optic clicked, focusing and unfocusing on her face. 

“It was later selected to be a part of the platform created to find Shepard-Commander.” 

“…oh.” Of _course_ that was Legion—geth aside, he wouldn’t have someone else’s memories. “Keelah. Legion. I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a necessary experience. We—those programs—would repeat the experience to save another from enduring it.” 

Tali shuddered. 

Taking a chance, she grabbed Legion’s arm. The geth looked down at her, head paneling raised. 

“Let’s try and make sure you only have _good_ experiences from now on.” 

“We calculate the probability of your success as ranging from .1 to .05 percent.” 

Legion leaned into her touch. Again, Tali felt tears welling up. Keelah, she hadn’t cried this much in _months_. 

Tali sniffed, wiping away another tear. 

“Well, we’ll never know if we stay in here forever.” 

“Affirmative.” 

Tali loosened her grip on Legion’s arm, but the geth slowed, walking beside her. 

They reached the pod more quickly than Tali thought possible. Quietly, she stepped inside.

Legion nodded.

“Dej will be waiting for you. Our transfer is expected to take longer than average. Defragmentation is required.” 

“Okay.” 

Tali reached up, closing the pod. 

She closed her eyes, letting the blue light wash over her once again. 

“Tali!” 

The pod hissed open. 

Hands—quarian hands—grabbed her and pulled her out of the pod.

“Tali’Zorah!” 

Groaning, she opened her eyes. 

Sal’Nimr stared down at her. His hands were on her shoulders, clutching her tight— _too_ tight.

“Ow.” 

“Sorry.” Sal let go and got to his feet, offering her a hand up. She accepted, trying to shake the dizziness out of her head. 

“What happened? Why are you here?” 

Sal grabbed her hand and pulled her to the exit. 

“We heard you’d been captured by the geth. Whatever you did to their leader, it worked.” 

Sal pointed to Legion. 

The geth was still offline, hunched over at the console and beeping quietly. 

Tali shook her head, jerking her hand out of the other quarian’s grip. 

“No! I came here because I wanted to.” Tali stepped back, looking away from Sal only when she heard the distinctive _crunch_ of wires and circuitry under her boots. Her heart dropped. “Sal. _What did you do?”_

“It wouldn’t let you leave.” Sal raised his hands. “I tried to explain, but it had a _gun.”_

“So do you!” 

For the first time, Tali couldn’t help but notice how _empty_ it was. 

The active geth were gone. 

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a reason that _didn’t_ involve Sal killing every geth around the consensus. 

“Admiral Xen raised an alarm in this sector. Most of the geth went to investigate.” Sal gestured helplessly to Legion, then to what remained of Dej. “Except these two.” 

Tali’s hands curled up into fists. 

“Did Xen put you up to this?”  

“No!” Sal stuttered, fiddling with the safety release of his weapon. “I. Er. Volunteered. Tali, I swear, we thought you had been captured and—”

Sal yelped, raising his shotgun with trembling hands. 

Tali whipped her head around. 

Almost faster than she could process, Legion came back to life, optic shining back online as the geth stood up straight. 

In an instant, it seemed to take in the dead geth at Tali’s feet, the other quarian, and the shotgun in Sal’s hands. 

Before she could protest, Legion was pointing Dej’s rifle at the other quarian. 

“Legion. Wait.” 

Tali moved her hands away from her sides, wondering for a moment if she should raise them, but did not. 

“He made a mistake.” 

Somehow, despite the geth’s voice not changing at all, Legion’s voice sounded like ice. 

“Against all treaties, this one has trespassed on our property and killed one of the geth.” 

Slowly, Tali moved forward. 

“Tali.” Sal’s voice cracked. “Get away from it.” 

Tali ignored him.

“I promise we’ll try and fix this. Legion.” With hands that only trembled a little, Tali reached up and touched Legion’s hand. “He’s not going anywhere. You don’t have to kill him.”

Legion looked from Sal to her, and Tali realized she had been holding her breath. 

“Thanks.” 

“We are not doing this for him.” 

“I know.” Tali swallowed. “I know.” 

With the exception of Sal’s labored breathing and Legion’s faulty power core, it was silent. 

Legion’s head paneling lifted with a quiet click. 

Distantly, Tali thought she heard thunder. 

Tali stumbled forward, ears ringing. Her suit felt constricted. Too tight. 

Sal screamed, a sound that cut off as Legion retaliated, squeezing the trigger as Tali’s knees buckled.

“Tali.” 

Her head met Legion’s shoulder. Belatedly, she realized that Sal—that all quarians, not just her good-intentioned rescuer—were not used to geth yet, that to anyone else, Legion’s head plating moving would have looked like a threat or a hint of some hidden weaponry about to reveal itself.

Dazed, she looked up. 

“Legion.” Tali reached up, trying to reach the geth’s face. “You’re bleeding.” 

“Negative.” Legion adjusted its grip, lowering her to the ground. Tali didn’t protest—her head hadn’t stopped swimming since leaving the consensus. “Tali, we request permission to upload a fraction of our programs into your suit’s network.” 

“Why?” Tali choked back a laugh. “’s early to link suits, Legion.” 

“Extreme measures may be required to save your life.” 

“My life?” Tali laughed, trying to quell the tears bubbling up to the surface. “Don’t be silly. You can do whatever you want. Don’t be so dramatic, Legion. ’s okay.” 

Straining, she blindly reached up to touch its face, trying to smooth down the erratic movements of the geth’s head plating. 

“Legion. Calm down. Calm down.”  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I am so sorry this is so long! I will try to stick to my self-imposed 1,000 words per chapter. *But* this chapter does get a little more emotional and is going to start slowly leading into the main ship (or at least, the very strong platonic ship?). As always, comments/kudos are appreciated. Thanks for sticking with me so far :)

Tali yawned. 

“As I was saying,” Ven’Hela continued. “I expect you to make a full recovery within the next two weeks.” 

Tali sighed. Despite the size of the room and the bed, the ceiling seemed to press down on her, threatening to crush her if she didn’t get up and _move_.

“Remind me again,” Tali mumbled. “Why we didn’t bother to start building a hospital until last month?”

“A technical oversight.” Ven’Hela reminded her of the hanar: all polite words and soft voices, but with a hanar’s unforgettable persistence. “It is being fixed.” 

Ven’Hela nodded towards Legion. 

“You should really reward your geth. As I’ve said, its prompt action is the only reason you are this far along.” 

“Legion isn’t _my_ geth.” Tali glanced at Legion, who remained crouched in the corner, quietly recharging. “It’s its own person. Geth. Thing.” 

Ven’Hela nodded blankly and began gathering his things. 

“Remember Tali, I am always on call, even if you did place your house in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Bye, doc.” 

Tali let her eyes close. 

As soon as the door closed behind the quarian, Legion powered up, straightening its back as it moved towards Tali. 

“We believe the doctor’s analysis was incomplete.” Gently, Legion touched her arm, adjusting the output of the fluid bags attached to the tubes lining her suit. “With correct treatment, you will be capable of walking autonomously within five days.” 

Tali raised an eyebrow.

“Help me up then.” 

Legion narrowed its optic. 

“It has not been five days.” 

The corners of Tali’s mouth twitched. 

“And I’m not going to get any better watching _Fleet and Flotilla_ with you for another week. Not that I mind,” she added, wincing as Legion helped her stand. “I’d like something to do _when_ I watch the movie.” 

“We do not comprehend your fascination with that vid.” 

Legion did not move as Tali navigated the geth’s body, trying to steady herself. 

“There are easily available vids of accurate interspecies relationships. We will download them to your omni-tool upon request.” 

Tali sighed. 

“Legion. It’s not about the truth. Not really. It’s…” Walking temporarily forgotten, Tali trailed off, trying to find the right words. 

“It’s hard to describe. Sometimes it’s just better to visit a world where everything’s cheesy and there’s a happy ending—because that’s not real life. Look at Thane. Or at Mordin. Or my team on Haestrom. Or at what happened to _you._ I wouldn’t want to be Shalei, but sometimes it’s better to watch her life than to keep remembering mine.” 

Her back was beginning to ache. Tali leaned against Legion’s shoulder, feeling the smooth armor against her neck. 

Legion returned the gesture, resting the side of its face against Tali’s head. Tali could only wonder what extranet sites Legion had referenced to do _that,_ but she appreciated it. 

“Thank you.”  

“You are welcome.” 

Tali shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I’d like to sit for a little while.” 

In a minute, she was sitting at the foot of the bed, resisting the urge to clutch her back as pain coursed through her ribs and spine. 

“Tali’Zorah.” 

Tali found it bleakly amusing how transparent Legion was. 

“I’m not going to lie down.” 

For a second, Legion looked as if it was going to push her back into bed, but head plates quickly settled back into place, lifting and clicking gently as the geth talked. 

“Exacerbating your injuries will extend recovery time.”

Not for the first time, Tali sighed.

“I know, Legion.” Wincing, she swung her legs up onto the bed. “But it’s better than lying in bed all day doing nothing.” 

“No,” she added. “I don’t count watching _Fleet and Flotilla_ every day _something.”_

Legion bowed its head. 

For a long moment, they sat in silence. 

Giving up, Tali finally rested her back against the pillows. 

“Tali?”

“Yes?” 

Legion looked up. Not for the first time, Tali wondered what the original quarian creators had been thinking, installing a bright light as an optic. 

“We would like you to teach us emotion.” 

Tali narrowed her eyes, caught between suspicion and confusion. 

“You mean how to feel?”

“Our platform is capable of processing more sensory data than the average geth. However, we do not ascribe an ‘emotion’ to the sensation.”

“…um.” Tali squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to imagine how to explain emotion to someone with no emotions. 

“Okay.” 

Even if Legion was using this to distract her, she welcomed the chance to learn more about the geth. 

Probably.

“So…” Tali trailed off, scanning the room. Her eyes quickly landed on Legion’s chest, and she reached out to touch the edges of the crater, carefully avoiding the ringed cabling and delicate circuitry. “Your injury. When you got it on Eden Prime, what did your sensors pick up?” 

Legion replied immediately. 

“A sniper rifle equipped with incendiary clips pierced our armor, heating it to approximately 1100 degrees Kelvin. An application of medi-gel reduced the possibility of this platform’s demise.” 

Tali stared. 

“…all right. A normal person would be _dead,_ but let’s just say you were badly wounded.”

“That is an accurate summarization.” 

Tali smiled.

“Normally, we’d be feeling the pain or hurt of it happening, or anger at whoever did it, or panic if someone close to us was nearby. Good emotions like peace and happiness aren’t too common.” 

“And now?” 

Tali looked up.

“Huh?”

Legion nodded at her hand.

“Is this _hurt?”_

Distantly, Tali heard the long-dead quarian creator telling the geth the difference between pain and pleasure. 

“What do you think?” 

Legion’s optic unfocused. Clearly, the geth had been expecting an answer. 

“Not.” 

Tali let her hand drop and leaned back against the pillow.

“But what is it?” 

“Elaborate?” 

“Hm.” Her fingers drummed on the sheets. “Is it better than what caused the injury?”

“Yes.” 

She blinked. 

“Would you want me to do it again?” 

“Yes.”

Tali felt her shoulders stiffen in surprise, but leaned forward, running her fingers along the hairline cracks and shallow dents until she came to the edge of its armor. 

“Then I would say it’s a good feeling.” Tali held on a moment longer before lying back again. “It’s different for everyone, but generally things that hurt you are _bad.”_

Legion nodded.

“Thank you, Tali.” 

“You’re welcome. I think.”

Tali closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but hope similar scenarios were happening throughout the planet—geth learning to _be,_ by nature of their partner species, or just by having to sit through too many vids.

“What about when you met Shepard? How did you feel then?” 

“Runtimes had not accounted for the possibility. We were faced with an anomaly.” 

“But you’d been searching for Shepard before, right?” 

“Correct.” 

“Were…” Tali paused, trying to translate her words into something _neutral_ Legion could understand. “You accomplished your mission.”

“Yes.” Legion leaned forward, and Tali tried to remember that for all of Legion’s intellect and abilities, it was still learning what she had known most of her life. “What are your ‘good feelings’?” 

Tali frowned. 

“I’m not sure that’s the right way of putting it.” She shifted position, bending her legs as far as she could without pain. “There’s things that you can enjoy because they’re _fun,_ or things you like because they’re fulfilling. It’s a whole spectrum of good.” 

Legion nodded, and its optic refocused on Tali.

“Requesting elaboration.” 

She sighed.

“Okay. Um. I like working on ships because I’m good at it, and it’s a useful skill to have. I also like watching _Fleet and Flotilla_ because it’s a fun movie.” She hesitated. “I enjoy talking to you.” 

Legion raised its head. 

Internally, Tali cringed. 

“Never mind.” 

Despite her words, she could tell Legion was not satisfied; its head flaps shifted rapidly across the sides of its head, like the waves of a flooding stream. 

“Tali’Zorah?” 

“Yes?” 

“We are…lost.” Legion looked away from her, staring instead at its hands. “We request clarification.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This was never our intention.” Legion nodded. “Our goal was to build a structure to house the geth. All geth.” 

“I remember.” 

“Now we are a hybrid of Old Machine codes and geth. Our independence has granted us greater intelligence, but there is less need for geth to network. Runtimes predict that within ten standard years we will no longer need a consensus—archives will suffice.” Legion bowed its head. “We did not desire this, Tali’Zorah. It was necessary, but we do not desire it.”

“Legion…” Tali reached out, taking Legion’s hand in her own. 

“Is this “bad”?”

Tali squeezed Legion’s hand.

“Yes.”

Something within Legion clicked and whined. Tali tugged on Legion’s arm. Confused, the geth stood, staring, until Tali pointed to the space beside her. 

Legion sat. 

Frustrated, Tali wished she had the strength to wrap her arms around the geth platform. She settled for squeezing Legion’s hand as the geth stared at her. 

“I’m sorry.” She managed. “Sorry for everything.” 

Legion dropped its head, leaning against her again, but this time Tali sensed there was real meaning ascribed to it. Legion needed some kind of help, and she wasn’t sure what to do. 

“You have done nothing wrong.” Legion said. “You communicated willingly with us. We know you argued against war. You have done more for us than any other organic.”

 “I could’ve done more. I should’ve stood up for you when we met the admirals on the _Rayya._ Maybe that—”

“There was no reason to trust us.” At this distance, she could hear the quiet clicks and hums of Legion’s power core. “Trust requires time not previously available. We understand.” 

Tali squeezed Legion’s hand again. 

“I know it seems scary, but it’ll get better.” Gently, she rested her free hand on Legion’s shoulder. “It’s only been a few months. The geth are still figuring things out. Maybe not as fast as before, but it will happen. Don’t worry.”

“It is…quieter.” The geth leaned against her shoulder. “We—geth—avoided the silence.” 

“Silence?”

Legion’s hand moved to rest atop hers. 

“Geth intelligence increases according to the number of programs. The silence was indicative of _absence._ We knew that absence when the heretics left us. The Old Machines were aware of it. _”_

Tali nodded.

“We led you to believe that it was our deactivation that forced us to upload to the consensus manually.”

“Yes. Because of your outdated security programs…” Tali trailed off, trying to see where the geth was going. 

“That is partially incorrect.” Legion stiffened against her. “We were disconnected from the consensus once you freed us from the Old Machine.”

Tali flinched. 

“So the Reaper dreadnought. Destroying it…severed you from the rest of the geth?”

“The majority of our connections were rewired to host the Old Machine’s signal. Our connection to the consensus was one of the resources utilized.” Legion inclined its head. “We did not wish to risk infection again.” 

“Legion.”

Shepard would call this a _leap._

Tali let her hand move to Legion’s knee. 

“It’s not your fault.” At that, the geth’s head paneling pulsed, moving in sync with its ticking power core.

“Avoiding going back to the consensus is…understandable.” Briefly, Tali thought back to her own hesitation after the suicide mission. The world had seemed bleakly full of possibilities, and though the Fleet did not know it, she was the daughter of a traitor. “I guess…after a while, it was easier to just not go back.” 

“Yes.” 

Her throat ached, threatening to make her voice crack if she spoke again, but Tali swallowed. 

Legion shifted position, a subtle movement which allowed Tali to rest her head against its chest. 

“We understand, Tali’Zorah.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

_“Tali.”_

Something was _wrong._

The _Rayya’s_ walls loomed above her, beautiful greenery and polished steel of the ancient liveship a testament to quarian stubbornness. 

_“Tali!”_

 Tali pushed past Koris and Xen. Didn’t they know it was rude to shout, especially when space was such a valued commodity—personal space even more so? 

The young quarian nodded at Reegar and Legion as she walked by. The geth moved as if to speak to her but Tali shook her head. _Later._ It practically lived in her house, and if it was an emergency she would’ve heard about it by now. 

Squeezing in between crates of provisions, Tali punched in the access key for her family’s old living quarters. The door slid open and Tali stepped in, immediately overwhelmed by the smell of citrus mixed with the stench of _dying._

“Tali.”

Her throat felt as dry as Rannoch’s deserts. 

“Father.” 

The older quarian took a step forward, oblivious to the grime that stained his uniform and the organs that slipped out of his gut and landed on his boots, staining the floor a deep purple. 

“Your mother has been taken to the infirmary.” His voice was sad, sadder than Tali had ever heard it. “Doctor Hela will give her the best treatment possible, but…” 

“She’s going to die.” Tali whispered. “She’s going to die and you’re going to drive yourself crazy finding a way to stop the geth.”

“Tali…” 

Her stomach churned. There hadn’t been that _much_ on the ship—the geth used energy weapons, they didn’t disembowel their opponents and—

“And then you’ll die too—on the _Alarei!_ After betraying the Fleet to torture the geth just so we could get back to Rannoch!”

“I promised you a house on the homeworld.”

“Not like that!” Tali took a step forward, flinching as blood and guts squelched under her boots. “Not at the cost of everything you swore to be! Everything you swore to defend!”

“I promised your mother I would defend you.” A heavy, cold, hand came to rest on her shoulder and Tali pulled away, stumbling backwards and hitting the wall. Her father frowned and moved forward, hands extended, offering to help—

She sat upright. Sweat drenched her back and forehead, and her heard pounded a deafening rhythm in the quiet room. 

Tali fumbled with her helmet, tugging at the pressure locks until they popped open. 

Her helmet clattered to the floor, rolling awkwardly into a corner. 

She clutched at the sheets with trembling fingers, opening her eyes as her heart slowly calmed. 

Her throat burned.

Tali stumbled out of bed and fell to her knees. Her head swam as images of her father’s blood were painted into the floor.

“Keelah.” 

Slowly, she turned to the bed, forcing her fingers to let go of the sheets. 

“Keelah. Keelah. Keelah.” 

Tali struggled to her feet and shuffled to the door. 

The night was quiet. The bathroom’s machines hummed quietly as Tali activated the cleanser, letting the mist wash her face. 

The mist was cool, a welcome respite from the blood she felt sloshing against her boots and dripping through her fingers. 

“Crea—Tali.” 

She flinched. 

“I didn’t hear you.” 

Behind her, Tali heard Legion’s power core tick. 

“We apologize.” For a moment, Legion was silent. Then: 

“May we approach?” 

Tali nodded, hoping the mist would disguise the tears running down her cheeks.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Go ahead.” 

She felt the air shift behind her as Legion moved forward. 

“Do you require assistance?” 

Tali wiped her eyes and shut off the cleanser. 

“Thank you.” She shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Legion tilted its head.

“Our sensors indicate your body is compromised by abnormally high levels of stress.” 

When Tali didn’t move, Legion took another step forward. “We are equipped to relieve suppressed sexual frustration.”  

Tali looked up. 

“What?”

“We have been programmed to ensure Creator emotional and physical conditions remain at optimal capacity.” 

Despite herself, Tali looked up. 

“No. I’m…it’s not that, Legion.” Tali wiped her eyes again and turned to face Legion. _That_ was a discussion for another time. “I’m not…frustrated.” 

“We do not understand.”

“It’s complicated.” Tali looked up at Legion. 

“You are distressed.” 

She nodded, furiously blinking away more tears. 

“We calculate the source of your distress is due to your resting period.” 

Tali wiped her eyes. Legion’s optic blinked and whirred. 

Legion raised its hand. Tali closed her eyes and leaned forward. 

She felt the geth’s fingers against her skin, touching her cheek and methodically wiping away her tears. 

 “There is no shame in tears.” Legion said. “Organics utilize this method to relieve emotional stress.” 

“I know.” Tali mumbled, blindly reaching out to touch Legion’s shoulder. 

She flinched when her fingers touched blood-soaked metal. Tali pulled her hand back. 

“Do you require assistance returning to your bed?” 

Tali opened her eyes. 

Her vision had adjusted to the dark, with the obvious exception of Legion’s glaring optic. 

“I’ll be fine.” She said thickly. “Sorry to bother you.” 

Legion pulled its hand away and Tali walked back to bed fully aware Legion was following her. She leaned over the side and retrieved her helmet, snapping it back on with a quiet hiss. 

“Tali.” 

“Yes?”

“We wish to remain here for the duration of your resting period.” 

Tali stretched out her legs, then curled them back up, pulling the sheets up to her chest. 

“Sure. But why?” Tali hesitated, then shook her head. It was too late—or early—for such a complex conversation. “Never mind.” 

She patted the side of the bed with one hand. Legion watched. 

“Sit.” 

“We do not distinguish between sitting and standing. Our position will disturb you.” 

“We’ll—I’ll—be fine.” Tali sighed. “Please. Legion.”

The geth nodded, taking a seat beside her. 

Tali smiled. 

“Thanks.” 

Gingerly, she reached forward to touch Legion’s forearm, immediately relieved when all she felt was metals meeting polymer and unknowable structures shifting into place as Legion moved closer to her. 

She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come immediately. 

Disappointed when it didn’t, Tali opened her eyes.

Her chrono told her less than a standard hour had passed, but weak light was already creeping through the blinds. Tali felt brief panic before remembering she had nowhere to be and nothing to do.

On its part, Legion was still online, though it seemed busy examining its free hand.  

Tali closed her eyes again. 

* * *

 

The smell of blood forced her body awake. 

Tali jolted upright and gasped for breath. 

She fumbled with her helmet again, tugging at the latches and seals before hands on her own gave her brief pause. 

“Tali?” 

She looked up.

Legion stared down at her—even to the ignorant viewer, its expression was one of comical confusion.

She swallowed—her throat was wickedly dry and her eyes were still wet. 

“Tali’Zorah?” 

Legion released her hands and she dropped them into her lap. Her heart was still racing and she knew Legion knew that. 

_Keelah._

The thought of telling a geth, of all people, about a stupid _nightmare._

“I’m fine. Promise.”

“You are lying, Creator Zorah.” 

Tali winced. Legion’s tone had not changed, but its head paneling had flared out. 

It was not angry. Not exactly. 

Upset?

Slowly, Tali drew her knees up to her chest. 

“Do geth dream?” 

“No.”

The point seemed settled, but Legion continued.

“Lower level processes choose to replay select data during our rest period. Our recall is perfect.” The geth looked at Tali.

“You are dreaming.” 

“Yeah.” 

Legion lowered its head. 

“We apologize. Creators did not invent a program to alter dreams.” 

Tali shook her head. 

“I don’t—didn’t—expect you to help me. I just…” she looked down at her hands, then up at Legion. “Wanted some company, I suppose.” 

With that, something seemed to click. 

Legion nodded. 

“We wish to offer you our company.” 

Smiling, Tali leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Legion’s shoulders. 

The geth responded in its usual way, head dipping to rest against her neck as its hand touched her knee. 

“Never thought I’d be hugging a geth when I got bad dreams.” Tali mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“The feeling is mutual.” Legion said. “Colloquially speaking.”

Tali gave up and yawned. 

“We suggest laying down.” Legion said. “Resting in this position may be detrimental to your health.” 

“I’ll be fine.” She yawned again, letting her body rest fully against Legion’s. On its part, Legion adjusted itself, leaning against the wall and gently moved her knees up. “Be up in a minute.” 

“That is not necessary. We agree this solution, while imperfect, is preferable to continued interrupted sleep.”

Blearily, Tali shook her head. 

“Gotta get up. Got…things. To do.” 

“They will wait until you have rested.” Legion pulled her closer and Tali let go of the geth’s shoulders in favor of curling up against its side. “We will rest with you.” 

Tali let her head drop.

“All right.” she smiled. "Good night, Legion." 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Tali?” 

“Mm.” 

Above her, Legion moved, and Tali recalled that barely a week earlier, she had vowed never to sleep anywhere near the geth again. 

“You are receiving a message from Creator Admiral Daro’Xen.”

Tali sat up.

She hadn’t moved much since falling asleep. Her head ached—a consequence of sleeping upright in a position that negated her suit’s interior cushioning. Legion had not moved, but seemed to be restless. Its power core was ticking more quickly than normal and its head panels were flared up and outwards. 

“What is it saying?” 

“She and the other Creator Admirals have convened an emergency summit scheduled for this afternoon.” Legion paused. “She is waiting outside your household.” 

“Keelah.” Tali extricated herself from Legion and tumbled to the ground. She stood and began to leave, turning only when Legion didn’t follow. 

“Unless necessary, we believe it is unwise to reveal our presence to the Creator Admiral at this time.”

Internally, Tali cringed. 

“That…might not be the best option, Legion. It might be better for Xen to know what she’s dealing with _before_ this summit.”

Legion tilted its head.

“We will join you shortly. Consensus must be formed.”

Tali nodded. 

“All right.” She paused at the doorway, resisting the urge to wring her hands. “And…thanks. Legion. For helping me last night.” 

“Acknowledged.” 

Trying not to run, Tali moved to the door, quickly punching in the security code, then adjusted her hood. 

“Tali’Zorah.” 

Unconsciously, the younger quarian jerked her head back. 

“Admiral Xen?” 

“Yes.”

Stepping forward, Tali closed the door behind her.

“Are you alright?”

Xen adjusted her own hood, looking from side to side, before settling her gaze on Tali’s helmet.

“No.” the admiral sighed. “I imagine you know how difficult it is for me to approach you ex parte.”

Despite herself, Tali couldn’t bite back a retort. 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem doing so before. _Admiral.”_

Xen sighed. 

“I know. I…I will not apologize for my previous actions, Tali, but present circumstances require you to put aside your grudges and _listen.”_

Tali gritted her teeth.

“What’s wrong?”

Xen lowered her head and spoke.

“The _Moreh_ has been compromised.” the other admiral sighed, and static briefly glitched her vocalizer. 

“My technicians have been working to restore our security systems.” Xen paused. “That is the purpose of our meeting. The admirals have given me until this afternoon to resolve this issue.” 

“Or else…?”

The admiral looked at Tali.

“They have agreed to shoot down the _Moreh.”_

Tali crossed her arms.

“What’s on the ship that’s so dangerous?”

Xen swallowed.

“One of our technicians activated a newly-developed security program.” Xen raised her head as the door opened. “One with potentially lethal power.” 

Despite the heat, a chill ran down Tali’s spine. 

“Xen.” 

Tali imagined a scowl as Xen crossed her arms. 

“I need someone without official clearance to access the security codes and shut the _Moreh’s_ protocols down.”

“You have engineered a program to eliminate the geth.” 

Belatedly, Tali cringed, and raised a hand to her helmet, wishing she could squeeze the bridge of her nose. 

Legion pushed past her to round on Xen, head paneling pulsing angrily. 

“We should have known better than to work with you.” 

Xen’s hands balled into fists. 

“You gained equality through a _fluke._ Through intimidation!” Xen stepped forward. “You are _nothing_ without us. _Nothing.”_

Legion’s shoulders stiffened, and Tali had the sudden, horrifying vision of the geth snapping Xen’s neck in a single bloody instant. 

“Legion.” Tali touched Legion’s arm, giving it a gentle tug. The geth’s head paneling twitched in her direction, but the bulk of its focus continued to rest on Xen. 

“We’ll stop it,” Tali said. “I promise.” 

“A temporary solution.” Legion said. “I—we—will not risk our future if the Creators refuse to cease hostilities.” 

“Xen.” Tali said. “Go away. I’ll help you. But _go away.”_  

The other admiral sighed.

“All right. I will send a hovercar for you.”

“I have my own.” Distantly, Tali realized Legion was shaking.

Not visibly, but she could feel it beneath her gloved fingers. Gently, she squeezed Legion’s arm.

“Fine.” Xen said. “Keelah se’lai, Tali’Zorah.”

Then she was gone, vanished as she walked over the hills leading away from the house.

Tali sighed, letting go of Legion’s arm.

“I’m sorry.” 

Legion’s shoulders slumped. 

“Come here.” 

Quarian forms of affection were so different from geth affection—if such a thing existed—but Tali moved forward, wrapping her arms around Legion nevertheless. 

“She was wrong.” Legion moved closer, and Tali adjusted her position, letting the geth navigate her waist and shoulders as it hugged her more tightly, slim fingers touching her hood as its head rested against her helmet. 

“Legion?” 

The shaking had not stopped. If anything, it was worse, slight vibrations running through the geth’s body as Legion tried to center itself. 

“We…” Legion pushed its head against her neck, and Tali wondered what it wanted her to do. “We do not understand.”

Tali waited.

“We—geth—have not had hostile intentions towards the Creators since the Reaper invasion.”

Tali sighed and leaned into Legion’s touch.

“Its quarian nature, Legion. We’ve got three _hundred_ years of bad blood to overcome. It…it’s not going to be fixed in a few months.” Gently, she moved her hand over the geth’s anterior cabling and lingered for a second, feeling the cracks and dents in its armor. “We can’t learn as fast as you can. Xen especially. But we can fix this.”

Legion settled back into its ordinary stillness and pulled away, though its hands remained on Tali’s shoulders.  

“We will accompany you.” 

Tali nodded.

* * *

Tali didn’t realize the flaw in the plan until the shuttle had taken off. She tried to stand up, then tried to cancel the flight plan, but the aircraft had already locked onto the _Moreh._

The research vessel loomed above them—a former cargo vessel refitted for maximum efficiency in regards to fuel consumption and staff upkeep, it was one of the few ships that hadn’t been grounded when the geth-quarian treaty was officially signed. 

“Legion,” Tali said. “We’re going into the most anti-geth ship in the whole fleet.”

The geth nodded.

“Our surveillance indicates _Moreh_ houses the only copy of the geth destruction codes. Destroying it will neutralize the current threat.” 

Tali swallowed. 

“I mean I doubt Xen would have had a ship that didn’t have heavy security. EMP weapons, turrets, you know?”

Legion nodded.

“We are attempting to access _Moreh’s_ security systems.” Legion looked at her, and Tali imagined the geth’s head plating bristling if she tried to touch it now. “We do not intend to die, Tali’Zorah. That is not the purpose of our mission.”

Tali blinked. Beside her, the controls beeped as the autopilot began docking procedures. 

Legion stared for a long moment, then replied:

“We apologize. We misunderstood your manner of speech.”

Tali shook her head.

“It’s okay.” She swallowed, heart beginning to pound as the contamination warnings blared throughout the ship. Quickly, she switched them off and forced out a nervous laugh. “I hadn’t thought of that. But now that you mention it, I don’t want you dying on me again.”

 “Acknowledged.” Legion stood and adjusted its rifle. “We intend to return to Rannoch with you.”

“Home,” Tali clarified, picking up her own weapon and checking the thermal clips. “I mean. If you want.”

“Clarify?”

Tali sighed and put down her shotgun. 

“Home. The place where I fixed you and where I tend to sleep and eat most nights. And where you do…your geth things.” Tali adjusted her hood. “That came out wrong. Er. Not just Rannoch. Home. The house on Rannoch?”

Legion nodded. 

“We understand.” Carefully, it picked up her shotgun and held it out to her. Only when Tali accepted the weapon did Legion speak again. “We accept your offer.” 

Despite the situation, despite the _wrongness_ that had led up to it, Tali smiled. 

“Good. Now let’s go.”

Save for the customary ship-noises present on every quarian vessel, the _Moreh_ was silent. 

Neither Tali nor Legion’s scans could detect any hostiles—organic or otherwise—but her breath still came out in a relieved sigh as they cleared the cargo bay. 

“Keelah.” Tali knelt to examine a storage crate that had toppled over, spilling its contents all over the floor. 

Geth parts were scattered across the scuffed metal flooring. Armor, circuitry, even a few limbs and control boxes kept secure within EM shields.

Tali’s fingers lingered over a fragment of cracked armor. It was silver, the furthest thing in the world from Legion’s charred coloring, but little imagination was required to picture pieces of Legion littered across _Moreh’s_ deck. 

Above her, Legion gripped its weapon, optic narrowing to a single point against the darkness. 

“Tali.”

“Yeah.” she stood and adjusted the fabric of her suit. “Come on.” 

Legion tilted its head towards the emergency hatch. 

“Lift override and stairs are located in the same area.” 

“Interesting.” Mentally, Tali shook off the images of a dismembered Legion and instead moved toward the hatch. Though she could not stop a flinch when her boots crunched against a piece of geth wiring, Tali moved to stand in front of the door and activated her omni-tool. “Could you open it? Please?”

“Affirmative.” 

The door clicked open, and a dark, bipedal form tumbled out. 

Instinctively, Tali lunged forward to grab it. Her boots squelched as she stepped in some unidentifiable liquid-solid mix. 

Her filters kicked in automatically, but even they could not mask the smell of rotting organs and decaying flesh. 

Horrified, Tali dropped the body, though her eyes followed it as it tumbled to the ground. 

Breath caught in her throat as her mind immediately went to last night’s dream. Quarian blood and organs—there had to be more than one quarian in here, Tali reasoned coldly, there was just too much blood for one—

Only vaguely aware she too was now covered in blood, Tali stepped forward, over the dead quarian.

Silently, Legion followed.

Entirely on autopilot, her fingers touched the lift overrides, not stopping until the console pinged and the red screen flashed green. 

A hand touched her shoulder.

Gentle, but it was enough for provoke a reaction.

Tali lifted her head. 

“I’m okay.” she sniffed, wishing she was home and it was safe to remove her helmet. “It’s okay.”

Legion’s head plating hummed and clicked before settling back into place. 

“We are unsure what form of assurance you require.” 

Tali swallowed and shook her head.

“None. Let’s get back to work.” 

They walked back to the lift, which stood open for them. While the walls were bloodstained, it was mercifully free of bodies. Relieved, Tali leaned against the wall as the doors closed. 

“We calculate the weapon will be located within Creator Admiral Xen’s personal laboratories.” 

“Yeah.” Tali opened the ship’s schematics on her omni-tool and indicated the third level. “There.” 

“Acknowledged.” Legion accessed the lift controls. “Redirecting transport.” 

The lift screeched to a stop. 

Tali’s eyes had been closing, but the sound of metal against metal had her standing upright. 

“What happened?”

“Unknown.” Legion shook its head. “Wait.” 

It pulled up the controls again and the lift began to move.

Tali stepped forward, instinctively reaching for her shotgun. 

“You’re not doing that.”

“Correct.” 

The lift sped upward.

“Help from Xen?” Tali dared to sound hopeful.

“Unlikely. Mission parameters stated she is unable to assist.”

_Or unwilling._

The lift slammed into the ceiling, throwing them both to the floor. 

“Oh.” 

“Tali’Zorah.” Legion shook its head, clearly distressed. “Requesting assistance.” 

“What’s wrong?” Forcing back her ingrained fears of approaching a malfunctioning machine— _a potentially malfunctioning geth—_ she stepped forward and grabbed Legion’s arm. “Legion? Talk to me.” 

The geth looked at her, head plates pulsing frantically. 

“Programs are under viral attack. Requesting assistance.” Legion repeated. “Assistance.” 

_Shepard-Commander. Help us!_

Tali scanned the geth with her omni-tool, biting her lip when at least five red _infection_ points flared up throughout its network. 

The lift controls blinked green, then flashed back to red before Tali could react.

Before Tali could move her head, Legion dropped to its knees and the lift shuddered, screeching against its cables once as it tumbled into free-fall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll be finishing this up at 20 chapters, after which I can focus on "Dissolution", since I've got the ending already set up. Thank you everyone who's read this--and I do mean everyone. I have a little moment of joy whenever I get an email saying I've had a new comment or there's been kudos added to this fic.


	12. Chapter 12

Her first instinct was to scream. 

Barring that, she went to her knees, pushing Legion into a corner as the geth clicked and whirred furiously, trying to regain control.

Of itself? Of the lift? 

She wedged herself next to Legion and furiously entered commands into her omni-tool. 

Xen had said no clearance, Tali thought bleakly. _No clearance._ No password? 

The general password?   
Letting out a sob of frustration, she hit the Fleet’s general override command. 

The elevator stopped, throwing both of them to the floor. 

Tali remained where she was. 

Legion’s head and neck had pinned her shoulders to the ground, leaving the rest of the geth curled up in an unglamorous heap at her side. 

Though it wasn’t comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, Tali reasoned, it was far better than being a stain on the bottom of _Moreh’s_ lift corridors. 

Openly crying, Tali lifted her omni tool to run Legion’s diagnostic again. No infections. Platform had twenty percent power, but had shut down. 

Absently, Tali reached over to rub Legion’s head panels.

“I’d really appreciate you waking up about now Legion.” Tali sniffed, activating her internal fans. 

Legion, however, had no such intentions, leaving Tali to lift her omni-tool and punch in a little-used comm. code.

“Call Daro’Xen vas Moreh.” 

Signal strength was weak, and Tali used the connection holdup to try and lift Legion off of her, with no luck.

_“Tali.”_ By the tilt of her head, Xen was entirely amused, and Tali regretted not sending a written message instead. 

_“I believe I sent you on a mission to save my ship. The_ Moreh _is not a vessel meant for your disgusting xenophilic endeavors.”_

Tali’s mouth dropped open. Belatedly, she realized Xen was not amused—she was disgusted, which made Tali even more angry than before. 

“For your information, Admiral Xen,” Tali replied, no longer bothering to keep the spite out of her voice. “We are only stuck like this because _you_ failed to inform us your weapon was armed and in _use.”_

_“Information I was not privy to.”_

“Talk.” Tali reconsidered, then shook her head, becoming aware Legion was booting up. “I want to know everything you have on this ‘weapon’ of yours—everything. Or tonight, Legion and I will gladly eat our supper outside, watching the fireworks display that was previously _Moreh.”_

Legion lifted its head. If Tali did not know better, she might have said it looked _tired._ It shifted position and let its head drop.

_“Is that right.”_ Xen leaned forward. _“Tell me, machine.”_

“Creator Admiral.” 

_“Are you part of Tali’Zorah’s sick, geth-filled sexual fantasies?”_

“No.” Keelah. It even _sounded_ tired. 

_“Would you resist the chance to pleasure your Tali’Zorah?”_

Tali’s head snapped up, gut immediately filling with burning rage that threatened to bubble over and…

And _what?_

“I swear Xen.” Tali managed to sit halfway up. “Send me your files _right now_ or we’re leaving your ship to whatever fate the others want. I’m sure Koris and Raan would love to know what you’ve been up to.” 

 Xen stiffened, muted her vocalizer, then keyed in commands to her own omni-tool as files began transferring to Tali’s device. 

Tali let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the floor. 

“Thank you.” 

_“You still haven’t answered my question.”_

Tali didn’t sit move.

“Question.” 

_“Machine. Do not make me repeat myself—”_

Tali closed the connection, satisfied when the signal blinked out of existence. 

 “Legion?” 

“Tali’Zorah.” 

She rubbed the topmost part of Legion’s head. 

“You okay?” Grunting with the effort, Tali extricated herself from the tangle of limbs and ran the scan again. “It looks like the virus is gone.” 

“No.” Legion made no attempt to get up, and for a second, Tali wondered if it _could._ “It is masking itself as a power drain. Estimates gauge fifteen minutes before backup systems are required.” 

“Alright.” Tali closed her omni-tool. “What do we do?”

“Allowing Creator Admirals to destroy _Moreh_ is…” Legion hesitated. “Desired course of action. We believe it would be hindered by Creator Admiral Xen.” 

Tali laughed. 

“You got that right, Legion.” 

“Acknowledged colloquial phrase.” Legion raised its head again. “The third level is inaccessible by lift. Clarification: with this platform inside, the lift is designed to destroy its occupants.” 

“They must’ve got the geth parts up there somehow.” 

“Deactivated geth do not trigger the alarm.” 

Tali hunched her shoulders. 

“Then you deactivate after we finish reading Xen’s files, and then we make a run for her labs.” 

At the imagined look on Legion’s face, Tali smiled wanly. 

“Even after we destroy this virus, I’m still going to ask the admirals to destroy this ship.” 

“We do not advise you entering the laboratories without backup.” Legion had evidently finished scanning the reports. “Creator Admiral disabled _Moreh’s_ weaponry prior to her calling you.” 

“How kind.” 

Legion’s head paneling shifted into a show of concentration. 

“This pattern of behavior indicates Creator Admiral had the ability to send any team to retrieve _Moreh.”_ Legion’s optic widened. “Logs indicate premature release of the virus corrupted _Moreh’s_ internal weaponry and defense systems, activating up to five geth before rewriting itself.” 

Tali scowled.

“They built an AI to destroy another AI.”

“A rudimentary artificial intelligence. Its primary directive is online, but regulated to secure portions of the ship.” Legion turned to look at her. “Such as the Creator’s laboratories.” 

“Even better.” Tali forced the glare off her face and pasted a smile onto her lips. “It won’t register me as a threat.”

“Creator Zorah.” Legion struggled to sit up. “We object to your plan. Our knowledge is necessary to ensure the weaponized intelligence is removed from the ship. Additionally, this virus is capable of severely damaging the entire geth collective.”

Legion lifted its head.

“Our collective.” 

“I know.” Trying to be reassuring, Tali patted the geth. “I’ll clear out the labs and we can work from there. I’d bet there’s a secure power station somewhere up there too.” 

Legion was silent. 

Then it nodded. 

Tali made sure to stand up before Legion powered off. 

This time, the lift chimed as the doors opened, and Tali was left with the problem of how to get Legion _out._

She settled for wedging a table into the elevator as she approached the console. 

Blood and white synthetic fluid stained the walls, a jarring opposite of the beautifully clear lab screens. 

Quickly, Tali pulled up the codes the technicians had been working on, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes boring into her back. 

She had no idea how advanced this ‘AI’ was. Could it be detecting her keystrokes and overriding them with something even more malicious? 

No—Tali shook her head. Xen couldn’t create something as smart as the geth in a few months. Even based off of geth _parts._

_There._

The lab terminals went black, then blinked back to their standard login screens. 

Tali sighed. Quickly, she copied the new code to her omni-tool.

Factory settings. 

“Legion?”

Almost instantly, the geth powered up. 

“Power levels experiencing significant drain. Requesting assistance.” 

“Hold on.” Tali hit _send._ “Download that.” 

“Acknowledged.” 

The lights in Legion’s optic flickered off, and Tali feared the geth had run out of power. Frantic, she began to look for a cable adapter when Legion’s power core abruptly rebooted and the geth stepped forward, pushing the table out of its way. 

“Keelah.” Tali let out a sigh of relief. “As soon as we get home I promise I’ll fix that thing.” 

“Specify.” 

Already turning back to the console, Tali just shook her head. 

“Your power core. And your side.” 

Legion looked down.

“Our power core functions at 76% efficiency.”

Tali shook her head again. 

“And it could be one- _hundred._ Plus, those clicks and hums might give away your position to an enemy.” 

“These noises have been present within this platform since Eden Prime.”

Tali turned to stare at the geth.

“Oh.”

Unbothered, Legion moved to a power node. 

“Requesting permission to move to standby mode and recharge.” 

“Go ahead, Legion.” Tali brought up her omni-tool again. “This might take a while.” 

In less than ten minutes, the anti-geth code had been copied to her omni-tool and completely wiped from the ship’s databases.

Tali hesitated at the command console, tempted to erase every bit of data on the thing, but instead transferred it via FTP to the console in her house. Even if the admirals _did_ decide to blow up the ship, she would have some interesting, if potentially gut-churning, reading for the next few years. 

“Legion?” Tali shut down the console. “I’m ready.” 

The geth shook its head as it disconnected.

“Twenty percent.” 

“How long is that going to last?” 

“Half a standard day, not allowing for overclocking and combat.” 

“Good.” Tali stepped into the elevator, holding it open for the geth. “Good.”

“Acknowledged.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

“—an outrage! Sending Tali’Zorah onto the _Moreh_ without backup, to do the job of an entire infiltration team.”

Unbothered, Xen simply crossed her arms.

“She completed her mission.” Behind her mask, Tali was sure the older quarian was smiling. “Her _geth_ helped.” 

“No thanks to you.” Koris’s omni-tool was on the brink of shorting out—five screens were open as he examined the _Moreh’s_ security footage. “Disabling weapons was the best you could do?”

“As you may recall, I was grounded by the two of you.” 

Gerrel muttered a profanity under his breath. 

Tali suppressed a yawn. Beside her, Legion glanced down but said nothing. 

Raan coughed.

“The point of who did what is moot. Our issue is this: at present, is the _Moreh_ a hazard to both geth and quarian existence?”

“Aye.”

One would have to be deaf to miss the venom in Koris’s voice. 

“Aye.” 

Tali smothered another yawn, then activated her stim program. 

“Against?”

The other three admirals rumbled an agreement.

Raan nodded. 

“Thank you. An issue settled in time nothing short of miraculous.” When nobody laughed, she continued.

“Legion.” 

_“Geth.”_

_“Legion.”_ Tali nearly snarled, hoping Xen could see the malice in her eyes. 

Xen’s own eyes glinted. 

The Admiralty Board meetings drew a far smaller crowd on Rannoch than they did on any liveship: Rannoch was simply too large, too busy, to hold a large audience’s attention with mundane matters. 

_“Legion._ Is representing the geth in a matter of some urgency.” Raan concluded. 

The geth stepped forward, and Tali briefly wished she’d had the chance to clean it up again.

“We do not regret assisting the Creators with their reintroduction into Rannoch.” Legion nodded. “Our relationship currently has suffered only four casualties, two as a result of construction accidents.”

Dej and Sal went without saying, Tali noted.

“Geth seek to understand organic intelligences.” Legion hesitated, then looked back at Tali. Confused, she stared back. 

“We request a place within quarian leadership.”

Gasps, some angry, some _surprised,_ filtered through the audience. Quickly, the gasps turned into chatter, then into shouts of a dozen different opinions. 

Raan lifted her hands.

“Please.”

“It’s not going to be _that_ geth,” Xen said.

“I thought you were an expert on geth,” Koris retorted. “Remember the _consensus?”_

“It is engaged in sexual relations with Admiral Tali’Zorah.” 

Tali’s heart dropped. 

She was certain her mouth was hanging open. 

Gerrel and Raan stuttered, trying to find a reply. Koris stared at Tali. 

“Tali…”

“You’re not serious.” 

The crowd fell silent. 

She had not meant to shout. 

Furious, Tali pulled up her omni-tool to the conversation that had taken place just a few hours before. 

The sense of gratification she felt as the recording looped over was _vicious._

Koris, apparently, felt similarly. 

“I make a motion to remove Admiral Xen from the Board.” he paused, taking in the crowd’s attitude, then continued. “Her comments to Tali’Zorah, in conjunction with her conduct on board the _Moreh,_ do not befit an Admiral of the Fleet.” 

“There is no longer a _Fleet—_ ” Gerrel gestured with one hand to the crowd, then to the distant structures of houses and the beginnings of businesses on the horizon. “But I find myself in agreement.”

“Whether or not you’d like to throw me out of your little club,” Xen retorted, waving off Raan’s protests. “We have found ourselves debating an issue far different from the one brought before us.” 

Xen turned to face Legion, who looked at her impassively. 

“The geth do not deserve a place in our government.” The older admiral moved forward, deliberately sidestepping Legion to address the crowd. “We have been forced to concede their… _sentience_ and _rights,_ but we will not be forced to welcome them with open arms.” 

“They welcomed _us.”_ Koris replied. “After this one gave his life to save them.” 

_“It.”_ Xen otherwise ignored Koris. “The geth have not yet demonstrated an ability to live without their masters—an idea I find repugnant. What remains of the Council has again invited an ambassador to the remnants of the Citadel—so long as we send a quarian _and_ a geth representative.” 

Beside Tali, Legion bristled. 

“Xen.” 

Raan moved forward, leaving Koris and Gerrel in the shadows, illuminated only by their eyes and the suit-lights. 

“As always, this is a matter that must be put to a vote.” Raan hesitated, uncertainty obvious to even the most obtuse listener. “I propose any judgement will remain a temporary verdict, to be amended by any local Conclave as it sees fit.” 

Xen narrowed her eyes, but gave a curt nod. 

“Additionally, I am moving to temporarily suspend Tali’Zorah and Daro’Xen’s votes, until this issue is settled.” Raising her hands as both quarians protested, Raan continued. “We will not settle this matter by bringing more contention to the Board. Your history and attitudes towards the geth are well documented.” 

“Seconded.” 

Tali whipped her head around to stare at Koris, who just shook his head. 

“Motion granted.” Gerrel said, then sighed. “When are we going to do this?” 

Raan closed her eyes. 

“I propose adjournment until tomorrow evening. Legion?” the geth raised its head. “The geth will have their opportunity to present their case in full at that time.”

“Acknowledged.” 

Satisfied, Raan raised her hands. 

“We thank the ancestors, who have made this day, its hopes and fears, a possibility.” She nodded. “Keelah se’lai.” 

“Keelah se’lai.” 

The crowd was quick to disperse—Tali reasoned that nothing _important_ had happened to warrant sticking around to gossip. 

Instead, she turned to face Koris. 

“What were you _thinking?”_

Koris crossed his arms. 

“Tali. The Admiralty Board is forced to keep the _appearance_ of impartiality. Moreover, if you had been allowed to vote, we most certainly would have ended in a tie.” the other admiral tilted his head. “The resulting option would have been to allow Xen to break the tie.” 

“…oh.” Tali felt herself blush and she looked down, immediately ashamed. “I see. I’m sorry Koris. I should have known you had a reason.” 

Koris squeezed her shoulder. 

“Get some rest. And make sure Legion is ready tomorrow.” Koris turned back to watch the geth observing. “You’re going to need it.” 

____________________________________________

A quick glance at Legion told her the geth was too tired to even attempt to pilot the hovercar. Tali ushered Legion into the passenger’s seat, reassuring his concerns about _her_ exhaustion with another application of a nerve stimulant. 

“How much power do you have left?” 

The geth’s head had been drooping, but Legion looked up at her. 

“Five percent.” 

Tali swallowed, punching in the coordinates and wondered if she could trust the autopilot. 

“That meeting took a lot out of you.” 

“We expended more power than anticipated.” 

Tali nodded, fighting off a yawn. 

“That’s what happens with the Admiralty Board.” she checked the positioning monitor. Seven minutes away. 

Tali forced a smile onto her face. 

“I’m not going to drag you into the house, Legion. You’d better still be awake when we get home.” 

“Acknowledged.” Legion’s optic dimmed. “We will attempt to comply with your request.” 

Tali shook her head quickly, and the abrupt moment briefly cleared her head. 

“You know, I never figured out why it’s taken me so long to adjust to this planet’s time. It’s not that different from anywhere else—besides being home, but I feel like I’m still playing catch up with my sleep.” she stopped talking and made a wide turn. _Five minutes._

“I hope its the air.” she said.

Legion seemed to perk up.

“We hypothesize your exhaustion stems from multiple sources. Interrupted sleep has occurred on approximately one half of this month’s nights during which you slept. Interruptions caused by your injuries gave way to your ‘dreams’.”

Tali was quiet, so Legion continued. 

“We believe your isolation from quarian society is another contributing factor.” the geth lowered its head, optic going another shade darker. “We hypothesize this isolation also stems from multiple sources.” 

Tali sighed and parked the hovercar. 

“It’s complicated.” 

Legion nodded.

“Requesting explanation be delayed until this platform has charged.” 

“Granted.” 

The geth stumbled as it got out of the hovercar. Quickly, Tali moved its arm around her shoulders and led Legion into the garage. 

“Here.” 

“Shutdown imminent.” Legion announced. 

Its optic unfocused completely and the geth’s head lowered. 

Tali blinked, nodding to nothing and no one in particular. 

“…okay.” 

Not bothering to smother her next yawn, Tali pulled cable extensions out of a box marked _‘GETH CHARGE - SPARES’_ and connected it to the makeshift power node Legion had constructed. It was a simple thing, barely visible under the garage’s console, and it would take three times as long to charge compared to a standard hub, but it was better than nothing. 

Carefully, Tali connected the extenders to the hub. She pushed back the armor on Legion’s chest to reveal its cracked power core, then connected the clips in order, more from memory than sight. 

The power node clicked. 

Relieved, Tali sighed. 

She removed her omni-tool and set it to scan Legion again. If what the geth said was accurate (and she had no reason to think it _wasn’t)_ a portion of the virus had adapted to hide as benign code. It stood to reason that adaptation could have allowed it to survive their altered codes, as well. 

Intending to wait, Tali found her eyes closing too quickly. 

She glanced at the door to the house itself, then crawled onto one of the work tables and curled up, letting her suit’s systems take care of shutting off her helmet’s vocalizer and her suit sensitivity.

Blissfully blind and deaf to the world, Tali slept. 


	14. Chapter 14

Tali woke in her own bed. 

She shut her eyes, willing the bloodied and broken images of her father to vanish, and wished she could cover her ears. 

Despite her suit’s internal controls and the sweat she felt on her neck and shoulders, she was shivering. 

Blindly, Tali stumbled out of bed and onto her knees. 

“Keelah.” Tali swallowed. “Keelah.” 

She activated the view screen on her helmet and staggered to her feet. 

Belatedly, Tali recalled she had fallen asleep on the garage worktable. Her back still ached, and her knees trembled as she stepped forward. 

Her heart burned. 

Keelah. 

She _missed_ Legion. 

Logically, Tali knew the geth could do nothing to get rid of her nightmares, but the simple sensation of her head resting on Legion’s shoulder was all she wanted. 

_“Bosh’tet.”_ she mumbled, to no one in particular. Her sides heaved, struggling to contain shallow, panicked breaths. “Stupid _bosh’tet.”_

Tali pushed the door open. She panicked for a moment when the lights did not turn on automatically, but found the switch after a moment of fumbling against the wall. 

Legion was still recharging. Its figure was a foreboding black and red silhouette against the dim yellow console light, an image that instantly turned more familiar when the lights flickered on. 

_“Bosh’tet.”_ Tali repeated.

She moved to the hub and picked up her omni-tool. It blinked and beeped insistent error messages as she checked the results of the diagnostic scan. 

“Interrupted.” Tali mumbled. “What caused that?” 

Confused, she set the omni-tool down and restarted the scan. 

Finally, Tali allowed herself to turn to Legion. 

The hub indicated the geth was at 30 percentpower—enough to run for a few days, assuming they wouldn’t be fighting, Tali reasoned. 

Legion’s hand twitched. Tali nearly jumped, before seeing the culprit: a wire had become disconnected from its main ports. 

Privately, she added that to the list of things they needed to fix. 

Tali stepped back. 

The stars were still a mural of silver lights contrasting the deep purple-black night, but the sky was slowly beginning to lighten. Tali could smell rain. 

She pulled out a dismantled agricultural net and peeled back its external plating. The quarians in charge of growing crops had sent her the device nearly a week ago, and she had forgotten about it entirely. 

The fix seemed simple enough—it needed its interior shielding restored. Tali took a seat and retrieved her toolset. 

Only three minutes into the job, Tali found herself yawning. Her eyes itched. 

She stifled another yawn and let her head rest on a storage crate. 

“Tali.” 

The quarian jumped, immediately wide awake. 

“We apologize,” Legion was saying. “We did not wish to disturb you.” 

“No, I’m…okay.” Tali shook her head and stifled another yawn. She glanced at the net. _Keelah._ Carefully, she replaced the protective paneling and turned to look at the geth. “Do you need something?” 

“No.” Legion tilted its head. “We are attempting to determine how you moved back to the garage.” 

Despite herself, Tali smiled.

“I walked, Legion.” 

She glanced out the window. 

Rannoch’s sun was still hidden behind the horizon. How long had it been—ten minutes? Fifteen? 

“Um.” Tali turned back to Legion. “How did I get _out_ of the garage?” 

Legion answered immediately. 

“We carried you.” 

Tali stared. 

“Why?”

“Specify.”

“Why—ah. Why did you move me? And why did you wake up?” Curiosity intrigued, Tali stepped forward. “Do geth recharge cycles have preset stopping times?”

“No.” Legion looked down at the floor, then into her mask. “We are uncertain how to explain our actions.”

“It’s okay.” Tali bit back a yawn. “I was just curious.”

“We determined your health would be negatively impacted by resting on a surface with limited support.” Legion nodded. “That is why we moved you.” 

“Thanks.” Tali smiled. 

Legion’s head paneling lifted upwards. 

“We suggest continuing to rest. Your systems have not met the minimum requirements needed for adequate functioning.” 

Tali shook her head.

“I’ll be okay. Really,” she added, squinting at the geth. “I’ve gotten by with less sleep.” 

“We hypothesize,” Legion said. “You are refusing rest because of your dreams.” 

Tali let her shoulders fall and sighed.

“Yeah.”

“We wish to propose an idea.” Legion held out its hand.

“I think you’re supposed to shake hands _after_ we agree.” 

Legion lowered its hand, but continued speaking. 

“We will recharge with you.” 

Despite herself, Tali’s heart pounded. 

“Okay?”   
“Geth do not dream. Our lower processes select data to replay while we recharge.” Legion looked at her. “We judge it is similar.” 

Tali felt Legion’s hand touch her own. She shook the geth’s hand, and Legion stared down at their hands.

“‘Deal’?”

Tali grinned.

“Deal.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a HUGE thank you to everyone who's read this fic, sent kudos, bookmarked, or commented. Though I don't have time to reply to everyone, I have read them all and each one makes my day :D
> 
> This chapter and the previous were initially going to be one, but due to the length of the former, I cut this part out. I apologize for not updating in so long--I still do have the chapters written, but I am trying to revise and update as I go. Next chapter will probably be up by the end of this week.

“So,” Tali said. “What do you dream about?” 

Her eyes were half closed, but she leaned against the geth, unable to hold back a smile when Legion brushed its hand against her helmet. 

“Our processes have recently selected our time on board the geth dreadnought.” 

Her head snapped up. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You are not at fault.”

“That’s not really what it means.” Tali said, turning to look at Legion. “Here, it means I’m unhappy you have to go through that.” 

“Acknowledged.” Legion adjusted its position, letting Tali move a pillow between them _._ Though its presence was more symbolic than useful, it comforted her nonetheless, a remnant of nostalgia of times spent onboard _Normandy_. 

“What was it like?” 

“Clarify.”

“The geth dreadnought. What happened to you?”

“The Old Machine hijacked our primary and secondary functions. We served as an amplifier for the signal it used to control the geth.” 

“What was that like?” 

Legion’s hand stiffened, its grip on her forearm tightening for a half-second. 

“At times, we were unable to distinguish our thoughts from those of the Old Machines. When broadcasting a specific order, we lacked to capacity to move or communicate orally.” Legion lowered its head. “Our own communications were intercepted and destroyed.”

“Keelah.” Not for the first time, Tali wished she could hug the geth. She squeezed Legion’s hand. 

“I’m sorry.” she repeated. 

Legion didn’t seem to have an answer for that. Finally, it spoke again.

“We wish to inquire about the subject of your dreams.” 

Though she had suspected it was coming, Tali still shivered. 

“Keelah.” Tali repeated, trying to clear her throat. 

“I always see my father,” she finally said. “He’s speaking to me, but he’s bleeding and…he’s telling me my mother’s going to the hospital, and I try to tell him that she’s going to die, and he’s going to drive himself crazy and _die_ trying to find a way to get back to Rannoch. But it never works.”

“We are sorry.” Legion said. 

Tali smiled. 

“I know. Thank you.” 

Legion clicked and stuttered code transformed into sound. Closing her eyes, Tali made a mental note to ask about the shifts in language. Was it trying to say something it could not communicate in Khelish? 

She rolled onto her side, pulling Legion’s arm over her shoulders as the geth’s vocalizations quieted and its optic began to dim. 

Tali let her breaths match the ticks in Legion’s power core: slow, steady, quiet. 

Navigating by memory, she accessed her suit’s controls and switched off its vocalizer before letting her eyes close. 

She fell asleep almost as soon as her head dropped on the pillow, only faintly aware of the lights powering back on. 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“All right.” Tali stifled a yawn and wished she’d stayed in bed just a little longer. “You definitely need a thorough cleaning, and its probably best if we get your armor polished too.”

She crossed her arms and scanned the room, looking for the box of cleaning supplies. “Are any others coming?” 

“Specify.” 

“Geth.” 

_There._ Tali grabbed the box and picked out the familiar bottle of solvent and the cleaning brushes. 

“No.”

“Why not?” she crossed her arms, trying to see the best place to start. Logically, it was best to start from the head and work down, but that increased the chance of water corroding delicate circuitry if she waited too long. 

“We have determined a significant geth presence will intimidate the Creators.” 

“Yeah.” Tali smiled. “Lower your head. Please?” 

The geth inclined its head, giving Tali easy access to the movable plating around its head and neck. She sprayed Legion’s head with water, then solvent, remembering at the last minute to hold out her hand to shield Legion’s optic. 

“All right.” Tali touched the wet metal. Specks of dirt were caught in her glove. “Let’s have that sit for a minute. Can you raise your arms?”

Legion didn’t respond. 

Tali squinted. 

“Legion?” 

“We apologize, Creator Zorah. We are attempting to comply with your request.” 

Trying to be patient, Tali blinked and rocked back on her heels. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Unknown.” 

The stress was suddenly obvious in Legion’s voice. Tali stepped back, and hated herself for it. 

“Help us.” Legion swung its head wildly, scattering drops of cleaning liquid across the room. _“Help.”_

Carefully, Tali reached out and took the geth’s wrist. 

It was heavy in her hand. Limp. 

“Can you feel that?” 

“Yes.” 

She let go of its wrist and moved her fingers up to its forearm.

“What about that?”

“Yes.” Legion was staring at her now. 

Tali touched Legion’s shoulder. 

Legion choked out static, shaking its head, and Tali dropped her hand. 

“Legion?”

The geth stared at her. 

Tali offered an uneasy smile. 

“It’ll be okay. Just give me a minute.” Tali squared her shoulders. “I’m going to go behind you and check out your motor control processes.” 

Legion nodded. 

Tali raised her hand, intending to squeeze Legion’s shoulder, before remembering. She bit her lip and gently touched the geth’s hand instead. 

Mentally, Tali vowed to catalog every single difference between Legion and the other geth she had studied. Legion’s motor processes were _inside_ its body. 

Gently, she lifted up its arm, blindly reaching into the geth’s open chest cavity. 

Nothing. 

Her hands brushed wires and thick cabling, then Legion’s ‘spine’. 

Frustrated, Tali looked up at the underside of the geth’s arm, glaring.

Her eyes widened. Anger welled up in the pit of her stomach, icy cold and calculating. 

_“Oh.”_

She stood, cautiously setting Legion’s arm back into place. 

“Hardware issue, Legion.” she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. But I’d like you to shut down for a few minutes while I fix it.” 

“Less than five minutes,” she clarified. “I don’t want any involuntary movements hitting me in the head.” 

Cleaning fluid dripped down Legion’s face. _Keelah._ It looked like the geth was crying. 

“It’s okay.” Tali said, more to herself than to Legion.

She stood on the tips of her toes and bumped her helmet against Legion’s head. 

The geth whined, a quiet sound she heard deep in her bones. 

“Five minutes.” 

Legion’s optic went dark. Its body slumped, but did not fall. 

Tali sighed. 

She activated her omni-tool and grabbed a multipurpose tool from the bench. 

Biting her lip, Tali sent a high EMP wave through Legion’s body—not on the correct frequency to damage the geth. 

The platform _squealed._

The sound sent chills down Tali’s spine. She activated the tool and pushed Legion’s arm up once again, quickly locating the discolored, bent metal. 

_There._ A dip, a pocket of space where one of the Reaper’s hardware blocks had been forced between armor and the synthetic polymers making up Legion’s side. 

She inserted the tool, pushing the clips together as she heard a faint _crunch._ Slowly, Tali pulled the tool out. 

Tali yelped at the sight of the fleshy bug intermixed with dull grey metals. It chirped and beeped furiously, but its back had been crushed.

“Keelah.” Tali mumbled, shaking her head. She fumbled blindly behind her until her hands found the bottle of solvent. She unceremoniously dumped it out and forced the bug inside, then snapped the lid back on. 

“I’m guessing there’s another one of you on the other side.” 

The bug beeped unhelpfully.

Tali sent another EMP wave through Legion, quickly extracting the second bug and crammed it into the bottle. She did a another check of Legion’s body. Though there were multiple pockets of Reaper-warped armor, none seemed to contain any of the bugs. 

Tali stood and shrugged her shoulders. She leaned forward, glaring at the bugs. 

“Hello from Rannoch.” she muttered. “If this is you, Xen, I’m going to shove these bugs right up your—”

“Tali?”

She flinched, head whipping around to see Legion staring at her. 

“Legion! Sorry, I…” Tali cringed. “Sorry. Didn’t noticed you were up.” 

The geth took a step forward and bent over to examine the bugs. 

“Subspecies of a common insect found throughout Rannoch. We detect extensive genetic modifications, allowing it to carry the weight of synthetic armor and survive by feeding off of our power sources.”

“Xen made it.” 

“We judge that likely.” 

Tali glared.

“They probably attached themselves to you on the _Moreh_ while you were trying to recharge.” Tali shook the bottle once, curious. The bugs skittered, beeping insistently. “After we’re done talking to the admirals I’d like to see just what it is they were trying to do.” 

“Acknowledged.” 

She turned back to Legion, holding her hand out to the geth. 

“I’m not sure if all of your motor control functions are back.” Tali said. “I mean, they should be, if the bugs were just interrupting a low-frequency channel and hadn’t got further into your circuitry. Um. Try and reach up to my hand. Farther, if you can.”

As Legion raised its arms above its head, Tali hoped her relieved sigh wasn’t _too_ loud. 

“Good.” Tali stepped back and cracked the seal of another bottle of solvent. “I think we need to clean your head again.” 

“We agree.” 

The next hours passed in amicable silence. Legion remained perfectly still, save for when Tali handed it a bottle or a rag to hold onto while she worked on removing a particularly difficult spot of rust. 

Finally, Tali stepped back, not bothering to hide her grin. 

“All done.” 

Legion _gleamed._ Even in the dim garage light, it was impossible not to notice the polished geth armor and the carefully cleaned N7 shoulder plating. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Tali fought the urge to hug Legion, reminding herself that while Legion was impeccable, _she_ was now covered in dirt and various cleaning fluids. “I’m gonna get changed, and then we’ll go, okay?” Tali frowned as a sinking realization settled into her chest. “Or…you can go ahead, since I don’t have to be there.” 

Legion tilted its head. 

“Do you require assistance?”

Unconsciously, Tali shivered. The thought of Legion being present— _touching_ her shoulders and back and hips as she swapped out her everyday suit for a formal one, piece by piece, sent a not unwelcome tingle down her spine.

“I’m. Er. I’ll be fine.” 

Legion stared. 

Tali opened her mouth, ready to give a curt explanation on the proper times a geth should blurt out facts about quarian physiology, when Legion nodded. 

“Acknowledged. We will remain here.” 

_Keelah._ “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Forcing herself to walk, Tali made her way back to the bedroom. 

Her rarely-used _other_ suit, one intended solely for Admiralty Board meetings, was crumpled in a box under the bed. 

Tali sighed. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this was probably my favorite chapter to write (especially the ending). I hope you enjoy reading it!

The sun had vanished behind the mountains before the meeting began. 

Dim lights illuminated the stage once again, casting a warm glow to contrast Rannoch’s cool night air. 

Legion began to speak. 

As the geth addressed the Admirals, suddenly looking small and frail from Tali’s seat, she remembered the day she stood beside Legion and Shepard, facing these same quarians. 

Now, though she would not play a part in the judgement, she stood on the other side of the table. Beside her, Xen bristled at Legion’s words. 

“The geth do not dispute the loss of life that occurred during the Morning War. Nor do we question the quarian deaths during the battle in Rannoch’s skies.” 

Privately, Tali was glad Legion had avoided saying it was a battle _for_ Rannoch. 

The audience was significantly larger than last night, but it was still small _,_ especially considering what might be accomplished by the morning. The thought of success, dismal as the odds were, still sent a brief jolt of warmth through Tali’s heart as Legion continued speaking. 

“Creators acknowledged our sentience when they attempted to shut us down.” Legion said. “Currently, we have established peace with quarian creators. Geth wish to extend that peace further by beginning to integrate our respective societies.” Legion straightened its shoulders. “We wish no harm towards our Creators. Our goals are similar. Merging our legislature will enable geth and quarian creators to accomplish these goals more efficiently.” 

Legion bowed its head. 

The admirals exchanged looks, and Raan stepped forward.

“Thank you, Legion.” Raan said. “We are accepting questions before the vote.” 

A quarian stood. 

Raan nodded.

“What guarantee do we have that the geth won’t rebel— _again?”_

Legion turned halfway to face the quarian. 

“We fought the Creators out of self preservation. Note: quarian Creators believed they were doing the same during the Morning War, and seven standard months ago.”

“Well…” the quarian trailed off, anger clear in his voice, but wavered once the crowd began to whisper. “No more questions.” 

A younger quarian stood, speaking before Raan’s nod. 

“What do the geth want?”

Internally, Tali cringed. 

Legion stared at the quarian, head paneling pulsing slowly as it tried to find a satisfactory answer. 

“Specify.” 

“You said the geth and quarian goals were similar. What are your goals?”

“The preservation of Rannoch. The continuation of the geth.” Legion stated. “We hold no hostile feelings towards the Creators.” 

“Is it because of your wonderful nature,” Xen practically leapt forward, hands clenched in fists at her sides. “Or because you _can’t?”_

“Admiral Xen.”

“You refer to us as ‘creators’, machine. Tell us why.” 

Legion looked down.

“It is a title of historical significance.”

Xen jumped off the stage. 

“Tell us. In the average modern geth, how many codes dictate total subservience to quarians?” 

“One hundred and nineteen.”

“And how many codes do geth use to overwrite the same codes that they have installed?”

“Seven hundred.”

“Seven hundred.” Xen said, reaching out to place a hand on one side of Legion’s head. Legion turned its optic away, but did not pull back. “Seven hundred codes, and you are still unable to do what you want.” 

_“Xen.”_

“Look at me, machine.” Xen said. “You did not even look Tali’Zorah in the eyes when she was on trial. A potential _exile._ And now, despite all your independence, you cannot look at one quarian. How many codes does this bring into conflict—the desire to bring equality for your fellow machines, your innate subservience, your programmed attempts at rebellion—”

“Legion!”

The geth’s head snapped up. 

Tali hadn’t even noticed she’d stood. 

The crowd’s eyes were on her.

“Legion. Look at me instead.”

The geth hesitated, and Tali realized that Legion _didn’t_ look at her. Not often. 

She had thought it was out of consideration, due to its optic being a bright light, but…

“Do you remember what you told me after the ceasefire?”

“Yes.”

“You said _thank you._ K—”

Bright, blinding light from the geth’s optic shone into her helmet. 

“Keelah se’lai.”

Tali smiled.

“Keelah se’lai, Legion.”

Quietly, Tali walked back to her seat. 

Xen followed. 

“Are there more questions for Legion?” 

The audience was silent.

“Very well.” Raan, Gerrel, and Koris stood. “Legion. Thank you for speaking on behalf of the geth here today.” 

Raan raised her head. 

“We will discuss this matter extensively of course, and have our decision by the morning.” 

Tali sighed, hearing grumbles and complaints from the crowd.

She stood, slowly moving down the stage, towards Legion. 

The geth was surrounded by a small crowd. 

Instinctively, Tali reached for her absent shotgun, then for her deactivated drone, but the crowd was _calm._

Talking. A few curious children wrapped in protective bubbles that shimmered and gleamed in the light were lifted by their parents, just to reach out and touch the geth’s lifted head panels. 

On its part, Legion appeared bewildered. 

Smile still plastered to her face, Tali crossed her arms, leaned against the podium, and waited.

Eventually, the crowd fully dispersed, and Legion turned back to Tali. 

“We calculate a 35.8 percent chance of success.” 

Not caring that they were in plain view of the other admirals, Tali leaned against the geth’s side. 

“I thought it was a good speech.” 

Legion stiffened.

“Creator Admiral Xen spoke the truth.” 

“About what?”

“Were it not for quarians, we would not exist. We devoted the last three hundred and fifty years to restoring Rannoch in memory of the Creators. They—you—are a part of us.” The geth lowered its head, and its hands were clenched into fists. “A vital part. We are unsure how to function without you.”

Tali rocked back on her heels.

“I think it’s the same for us.” she pulled away to lean on the podium once again. “Do you remember how I told you we have three hundred years of bad blood to work through?” 

“Yes.”

“We don’t know much about our culture before the Morning War.” Tali inclined her head, towards the empty audience seats. “It’s a fresh start most races never have. A start most never should have. But like it or not, our culture is unmistakably mixed with the geth’s. We can’t force the geth to take to the stars. We’re not going to kill you. Forcing you to be second-class citizens will just begin another war.”

When Legion didn’t respond, Tali swallowed the lump in her throat and continued.

“I think what I’m trying to say is…we’re just as dependent on you as you are on us. All our hate and anger will eventually end. Then we’ll be confused, like…well. Like I was. And then there’ll be the chance to start something new. Something better.” she made a vague gesture to the mountains. “Symbiosis.”

“Symbiosis.” Legion repeated.

“Yeah.” Tali reached out to take Legion’s hands. The geth stepped forward, and despite the scarring on its wrists and the deep scratches on its palms telling unspeakable stories, Legion’s hands were suddenly the softest thing Tali had ever felt. 

“Something like that.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I updated...I'm so ashamed for making y'all wait so long. And I've got the rest of the fic written out too >_>
> 
> Enjoy!

They waited in the audience’s chairs to watch the admirals debate, seated midway through the makeshift rows of seats. 

Tali fell into a light doze, letting her head drop into the geth’s lap.

It was already colder than she was used to, and this suit had none of the modifications her usual one did. Tali shivered, and Legion rested a hand on her waist. 

Then she was pulled out of her dreamless sleep by a quick tap to her shoulder. 

“Creator Admiral Xen.”

Tali sat up, stifling a yawn. Xen’s posture was stiff, shoulders tense. 

“May I speak with you?” 

“Um.” Tali muted her vocalizer and yawned, then replied. “Sure.” 

Xen turned and walked back to the shadows, away from both the stage and the audience’s seats.

“Xen.” 

The admiral sighed.

“I am willing to concede defeat on this matter, Tali’Zorah.” 

“It’s a little late for that. The others have to cast their votes by now.” 

“I know.” Xen crossed her arms. “Your little display with the geth was fascinating, Tali’Zorah. It made me wonder what would happen if we were to give them ‘equality’. Perhaps the best way to winning back their servitude is to give them freedom after all.” 

“Perhaps,” Tali said. “Instead of looking for a way to turn the geth into slaves, you should try and talk to them instead.”

“You’ve seen the results.” with a defiant jerk of her head, Xen looked towards Legion, who was staring at the two admirals. 

“It goes a lot better if you don’t belittle them, you know.” Tali shrugged. “And you’d probably do better if you left out all the ways you experimented on them.”

Tali imagined a grimace on Xen’s face. 

“Fly well, Tali’Zorah.” 

Tali nodded. She turned to go, but stopped. 

“Those bugs your AI planted on Legion. The data from _Moreh._ ” 

Xen crossed her arms.

“Let me know when you want it back.” 

Not waiting for an answer, Tali walked back to her seat, and rested her head in Legion’s lap once again.

The sun was peeking over the western hills when Legion tapped her shoulder again, stirring Tali out of a restless half-sleep. 

Slowly, Tali sat up, blinking as she shook her head. 

“The Creator-Admirals have reached a decision.” Legion said.

Tali’s heart dropped.

“I guess I’d better go up there.” 

The geth nodded. Tali glanced to her left. Quarians were already wandering into the stands, taking seats as close to the front as possible. 

“Tali.” 

“Yes?” 

Legion had been staring at its hands, but glanced up at her, then at the admirals. 

“Good luck.” 

She smiled, letting her fingers wander briefly across Legion’s head plating. The geth leaned into her touch, bumping its head against her side.

“I’ll be right back. Then we’ll go home, and I think I’m going to sleep for an entire _week._ ”

“Acknowledged.” 

Tali made her way to the stage, taking her place next to Xen’s empty seat. 

On her other side, Raan was the perfect example of neutrality. 

She stood. 

“The Admiralty Board has reached a decision.” Raan announced. 

Any chatter in the audience was silenced. 

Tali felt sweat drip down her neck. 

“At this time, we will not grant the geth a place in our legislature.” Raan raised her hand as mixed vocalizations erupted from the crowd: shouts of anger, exclamations of cheer. “However. At the time a position becomes available on the Admiralty Board, we will not oppose any geth who wishes to be appointed to the post.” 

Tali staggered to her feet. 

“I would like to resign my commission.” she said. “Effective immediately.” 

Raan sighed. 

“I am afraid that won’t be possible, Tali. Not yet.” 

Before Tali could form a response, Raan activated her omni-tool. 

“The Galactic Council extended a formal offer to the quarians and the geth just before the beginning of this meeting. Admiral Xen is coordinating the arrival of the _Destiny Ascension_ as we speak.”

Tali’s mouth struggled to catch up to her racing mind. 

“And…?” 

“Both the the Board and the Conclave have voted to appoint you as our official ambassador to the Citadel.” Raan said. “Once the arrival of the _Destiny Ascension_ has been finalized, your position will be vacant.” 

Tali swallowed, resisting the urge to tug at her hood or rub her hands together. 

“I…” Tali shut her eyes. “I’m not sure what to think about this.” 

“We can discuss this in private, Tali.” Raan nodded. “We intended to tell you at our previous meeting. For now, we have reached the conclusion of this meeting.”

Raan bowed her head. 

“Keelah se’lai.” 

Not waiting for the civilians to leave, Tali turned and marched up to Raan, hands clenched into fists. 

“Why didn’t you _tell me?”_

“Tali.” Raan, as always, was calm. “What would it have changed?”

Tali groaned, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. 

“Think about it like this kid,” Gerrel approached slowly. Cautiously. “You’re the one best suited to whipping the rest of the galaxy into shape. You learned from the best, after all.” 

“It’s not that.” _Keelah,_ she sounded like a petulant _child._ “It’s…”

“We’ve requested Legion’s appointment as the geth ambassador.” Koris said. “So far, we have not received a response.”

Tali muted her vocalizer to mumble a few choice curses in both Khelish and English, coupled with several relieved sobs. 

“Not the point.” Tali said.


	19. Chapter 19

Legion’s hesitation was the answer. 

Though logically, Tali _knew_ it was not solely responsible for the decision, that logic did not stop her from reaching up to grab the geth’s shoulders. 

_“Why?”_

“The consensus has determined our purpose is best served on Rannoch.” Legion was still avoiding her eyes. “We believe our appearance will allow quarians to identify with the geth. Creator-geth relations were the reason we faced reactivation.” 

For a moment, Tali was silent, trying to clear her throat. Then:

“How long did you know?”

“We queried when Creator-Admiral Koris presented the option.” Legion said. “Consensus was achieved among the entire geth collective in 5.9 standa—”

Tali sobbed and leapt forward, jumping up to throw her arms around Legions neck. The geth caught her effortlessly, lifting her with one arm and supporting her with the other. 

“We are sorry.”

Furiously, Tali blinked back tears. 

“Keelah. I—I know. I just…I thought.” she lowered her head, resting her helmet against Legion’s shoulder. Blandly, she wondered what she would’ve thought of this whole scene just a year ago. Being held a meter off the ground by a _geth,_ and clinging to its neck for some semblance of comfort.

“What do you want?”

Legion adjusted its hold on her shoulders. 

“Clarify?” 

“Do you want to go with me?”

The geth paused before answering.

“Consensus among the geth collective has been achieved.”

Tali shook her head. 

“I mean what you want. The 1183 geth inside this platform.” she hugged, _really hugged_ Legion for the first time, and hated herself for it. “What do you want?” 

Its answer was immediate. 

“We want to stay with you.” 

Her heart leapt, pounding against her chest.

Legion spoke again. 

“We can—will not—override the collective.” the geth lowered her to the floor, gently returning the hug. “We are sorry.” 

Her omni-tool beeped. Despite herself, Tali opened the message, wishing quarians had evolved without tear ducts. 

“Tomorrow morning.” Tali said. 

“We request access to your omni-tool.” Legion said. 

Silently, Tali handed it over, briefly recalling the only other time she had let the geth touchher omni-tool, she had nearly shot it. 

After a moment, Legion held out its hand. Confused, Tali shrugged, but Legion took her wrist and clipped the digital interface back on. 

“We have updated your private communications frequency.” Legion said. Its hands were warm on her arm. “We acknowledge this is not equivalent to our presence, but…” 

_“Thank you.”_ she placed her hand atop Legion’s. “Thank you.” 

“We will increase our attempts to avoid capture by the Old Machines.” 

Despite herself, Tali forced a smile. 

“Not funny.” 

Legion’s head paneling clicked and shifted upward. 

“Could you…” Tali bit her lip. “Stay? Tonight?” 

“Yes.” 

Tali was well aware that the house, while in her name and built for her, would be repurposed and given to another quarian once she left. So she spent the rest of the day packing. Then cleaning.

More than once, she simply sat on the floor, letting Legion hold her as she cried. 

The _night,_ if it could be called that, was sleepless. 

The lights were off, but Tali was awake. 

Were this a vid, she thought, _this_ should be the night of passionate intercourse. Or a beautifully upgraded nerve stim program. 

But they lay quietly. Tali’s hands wandered as she thought; up and down Legion’s arm, then across its battered armor and over its scarred fingers. 

Legion moved to rest its hands on her hips, and for a second, Tali wondered if it was studying that database its long-ago creators had installed. 

“Legion?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to miss you.” 

Legion’s chassis was warm against her back.

“We will miss you as well, Tali.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One! More! Chapter!   
> I'm considering a sequel, but it wouldn't be written at all until the fall (August-October) and not even then if my apartment search/car stuff goes according to plan. I'll keep you guys posted. Thank you for sticking with me for 19 long chapters!


	20. Chapter 20

The ship was quiet. 

Councilor Tevos was the only dignitary on board. She escorted Tali to her room, a space specially designed with quarian lifestyle in mind. 

The room itself was the size of her entire house. A huge bed was set in the middle and the cleaning station was in one corner, beside the large food processor. 

As Tevos closed the door behind them, Tali quietly set her bag down on a counter. 

“The geth ambassador will be on board within the hour.” Tevos said. “Faster-than-light travel is still limited at this time, and I cannot offer an estimate on our arrival. We were fortunate to have arrived on this planet so quickly.” 

“Rannoch,” Tali said automatically. “This planet’s name is Rannoch.” 

“Of course.” Tevos nodded. “If there’s anything you need…” 

Tali shook her head, amazed at the apparent subservience of the asari councilor. She knew it would not last—even when Shepard had been around to shove the Council around, their visage of helpfulness never lingered. 

The door closed behind Tevos. 

Exhausted, Tali sank into a chair.

She had wanted to ask who the geth ambassador was, but that admission of ignorance was one her father would have scorned her for. Keelah, she would have scorned _herself_ for it.

The doorbell chimed. 

The carefully neutral tone of a geth’s voice had Tali out of her seat and opening the door before she registered she had jumped over the chair. 

“—Zorah. We wished to ensure your facilities provided adequate security and comfort.”

The geth was smaller than Legion. Thinner too, with dark blue plating that shone against the ship’s stark white walls. 

Tali swallowed back her disappointment, blinking away tears. 

“Hey—hi. I guess you’re the geth ambassador.” 

“Correct.” the geth held out its hand. “We are GA-3N.”

“Gain?”

“Galen.” the geth corrected. 

“Galen.” Tali shook its hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Acknowledged.” Galen said. “We apologize for our presence. It is known Legion was your choice for ambassador.” 

“Oh.” Tali bit her lip. “I’m glad you’re here, Galen.” 

“If you are prepared, the collective has 72 measures we wish to present before the Council once we arrive on Citadel. We wished to receive your input before arrival.” 

Despite the circumstances, Tali felt the smallest of weights lift from her shoulders as the pilot initiated takeoff procedures.

“What’s first?” 

“A motion to allow volus on the council. Their control and knowledge of finances will be needed during the galaxy’s recovery. We calculate a volus on Citadel Council will increase efficiency regarding finances and trade by a margin of 15 percent…” 


End file.
